The Good Stuff
by ewells4
Summary: AU - [T]here was this indescribable pull telling him that it was time to get back. He couldn't define it and didn't really understand it, but he actually felt hopeful about going back, as if something might be waiting for him. He couldn't imagine what that would possibly be, but the feeling was there and it gave him that added incentive he needed . . .
1. Chapter 1

**With the new season starting, I feel like I should probably be doing something pertaining to that. This is something different, though. It's an AU story that could end up being 14 to 16 chapters. We'll see how it goes . . . .  
**

* * *

"So when I get home, Vera looks at me and says she wants me outta there and to take that ugly mutt of mine with me. Then she throws a change of clothes out on the front porch and expects me to just take off." Saul Levy snorted as he recounted his latest tale of marital woes. Occasionally, he'd stop talking to take a generous drag from his cigarette and look around the largely-empty warehouse they were babysitting while they waited for the Boss to show up.

"Sounds like you pushed her too far this time," Bobby Farrell suggested, affecting a bored expression as he listened to Levy's story and wondered why the guy's wife hadn't kicked him to the curb years before. As Levy smoothed a few lonely strands of hair over his shiny scalp, he tipped his chair back on two legs, causing Bobby to wonder how long the insubstantial-looking piece of furniture would be able to hold out against Levy's generous girth. Bobby could practically see the chair legs trembling underneath the guy.

"Nah," Levy said, dismissing Bobby's suggestion as he raised his cigarette to his lips and inhaled as if it were his last breath. "She knows which side her bread's buttered on. I'll stay at my nephew's place for a few nights. A few nights without me around and she'll be begging me to come back. I just wish she didn't always have to pick on Mickey. He may be a mutt, but he's never given her any reason to hate him."

"Look, man," Bobby began conversationally, "have you ever thought about just showing up at home on time? Maybe try not to get her going in the first place?"

"Sure. I thought about it. But Joe and me were at that bar down the street and time got away from us. Some guy came in and bought us a round and then we bought him a round . . . Who was that guy, Joe?"

"Mmmm . . . ." An unkempt mound of sandy-blond hair bobbed around as Joe Rinko struggled to pick up his head from the table, revealing red-rimmed eyes and a vacant expression. Looking around and seeing nothing more pressing than Bobby and Levy staring back at him, he let his head fall back onto the table with a thud. Bobby rolled his eyes and wondered if being in such close proximity to those two deadbeats could cause his brain to atrophy.

"He had a rough night," Levy chuckled.

"When does he not have a rough night?" Bobby had known Rinko for more than a year and it seemed like every night was a "rough night" for him. At the promising age of thirty-two, the guy was a burnout in every way. Whatever he'd been early in his life, he was now nothing more than a shell of a human being tethered to the rest of the world by the thinnest of threads.

Levy's phone rang, and he shoved a hand into his pants pocket, maneuvering around his ample midsection as he did so. Somehow, he managed to get to the phone before the caller hung up. Glancing at the screen, he grunted, "It's the Boss." Levy listened for several seconds before snapping the phone shut and returning his front chair legs to the ground. "He's on his way in. Pulling up now." Bobby watched with feigned indifference as Levy stood up and dropped the remains of his cigarette on the ground. He crushed it beneath his foot before walking briskly across the large industrial space and pressing a button on the wall. Instantly, an oversized garage door crawled to life. As soon as it was high enough to allow access, a black SUV drove in through the opening. No sooner had it cleared the entryway than Levy pressed the button and the door slid back down, echoing loudly around the building when it landed heavily against the concrete floor.

As the vehicle's front doors opened, Rinko pulled himself up off of the table and he and Bobby walked across the space to join Levy near the SUV. They waited as two men climbed out of the front seats and slammed their doors. Most likely chosen for their muscle, Carl and Theo were large enough to scare off all but the most serious threats to their boss Marco Davenport. And for the serious threats that weren't intimidated by their size, they made a nice shield for the Boss. While five pairs of eyes looked on expectantly, the SUV's back door opened and a pair of Italian leather loafers stepped down onto the smooth concrete. Davenport brushed a beefy, yet well-manicured hand down the front of his trench coat to smooth out any wrinkles. A flash of gold caught the light and Bobby noticed the intricately-carved signet ring that seemed to be a permanent fixture on Davenport's finger. Carl and Theo stood idly nearby, most likely judging the threat to their Boss' life to be minimal in his own warehouse with his own guys.

Before shutting his car door, Davenport turned back and murmured, "Stay inside, Sweetheart. I'll only be a few minutes."

Bobby briefly caught a glimpse inside the vehicle as the object of Davenport's affections, his long-time girlfriend Lorena Sparks, lent her tacit agreement to the directive. She wore a bland expression as she fluffed her fur coat and settled back in the seat to wait for Davenport.

"Place is secure, Boss," Levy spoke up as soon as Davenport shut the car door behind himself and turned his attention to the three men. In an example of extremely bad timing, Levy's body chose that moment to fall victim to a coughing fit. As Davenport looked him over, Levy hacked and wheezed and attempted to recover himself.

"Still smoking, I see. Haven't you heard that those things are bad for your health?" Davenport asked casually.

"I'm too far gone for that. Besides, I'll be dead long before the smoking gets me," Levy choked out.

Davenport's gaze traveled from Levy, who was still breathing heavily, to Rinko, who was making an unconvincing attempt to look alert and pulled together. Finally, he directed his attention to Bobby and seemed to derive some solace from the fact that one of the three men in front of him wasn't falling apart before his eyes. As far as Bobby was concerned, that was a good thing. He'd spent the past year working his way up in the organization, and if Levy and Rinko were making him look more competent in front of the Boss, he was willing to take advantage of it.

Davenport nodded his head toward an office off to the side and started walking as the three men trailed behind him.

Once inside, he flicked a light switch and a dim fluorescent fixture on the ceiling flickered, lending a small amount of poor-quality light to the room. Davenport leaned against a large metal desk in the middle of the space and the three men stood in a semi-circle around him. Bobby crossed his arms as he waited for the Boss to fill them in on their latest job.

Rubbing his hands together thoughtfully, Davenport said, "This next one's a big one. Shipment's in two weeks. We've got a new supplier on the chain, and if this goes well, there'll be a lot more of the same in the future. So no screw-ups. This thing needs to go off without a hitch."

"How many guys we gonna need?" Levy asked.

"Six, maybe seven," Davenport answered. "Any more than that and we'll draw attention. We don't want a lot of chatter going on out there about this deal. Keep the numbers down and it will look like everything is status quo."

Bobby nodded in understanding. "Do you want us to pull in anyone in particular?" he asked Davenport gruffly.

"We'll use you three. And I'm thinking maybe we should bring in Kenny, Russ and Tito. In a pinch, we can also use Carl and Theo if we need extra hands to move the stuff around quickly.

"We'll do the exchange at a place out of town. And I want to use the other warehouse to store the shipment. It's quieter over there—not much going on and we'll draw less attention."

"Which one's that, Boss?" Bobby spoke up. Since he'd hooked up with Davenport they'd never used another warehouse. The shipment had to be big if they were deviating from the usual pattern.

"Levy knows," Davenport responded dismissively. "It's been a while since we've done anything over there, though, so I want it checked out in advance. Make sure we don't have any uninvited guests taking advantage of the empty space. Be sure it's still locked up tight. You know the drill," he said, looking at Levy. To Bobby, it made sense that Davenport was deferring to Levy. Levy had been with the Boss for years, whereas Bobby was fairly new and Rinko was only useful in a situation with very specific orders and some degree of supervision.

"How many vans?" Rinko asked suddenly, surprising the other three men. It was the first intelligible thing he'd uttered all day.

"Probably three. We'll split the shipment between them." Looking at his watch, Davenport said, "Just get the guys lined up and check out the other warehouse to make sure we can use it. And get the vans ready to go. Levy, I'll call you in a few days to set up another meeting." He was already pushing off of the desk and heading to the door. As Bobby, Levy and Rinko followed Davenport back out into the warehouse Carl and Theo walked toward the SUV. Trained to anticipate Davenport's every move, they opened the front doors and started climbing in. The vehicle roared to life, sounding louder than it actually was in the large open space. Davenport opened his door quickly and pulled it shut with a smack as Levy walked purposefully over to the button and the garage door went up.

When they were gone and the door was back in place, Bobby said, "I'm taking off. I'll go over to the garage to check on the vans. It's been a few weeks since we had 'em out, so I'll find out if they're gonna need any work."

"I'll line up the guys. Rinko'll help," Levy told Bobby as he nodded toward Rinko. The guy was already loafing back over to the table where they'd been sitting before Davenport showed up, and Bobby wondered what help he could possibly offer. He didn't say anything, though. If Levy wanted to babysit Rinko, that was his business. "We can go over and check out the other warehouse tomorrow."

"See ya," Bobby said as he walked briskly toward a side door that led to the alley where he'd parked his car.

"I'll tell Vera you said hi," Levy laughed, displaying a cocky grin and some bad dental work.

"Don't do that," Bobby tossed back. "She actually likes me. I don't need her associating me with you. Bye Rinko," Bobby called absently, not expecting a response.

* * *

Later that afternoon, Bobby walked into a dimly-lit bar, allowing his eyes to adjust as the door shut heavily behind him. Locating Arnie Crapo wasn't such a difficult task, as it turned out. At three o'clock on a Tuesday afternoon, the place wasn't exactly teeming with patrons and Arnie happened to be one of only three people scattered around the room. Finding the guy face down at the end of the bar, Bobby marched over and whispered loudly, "Arnie, we need to talk."

Having assumed Arnie wasn't fully conscious, Bobby was surprised when his head snapped up quickly. "Sammy, what's going on?" Shoving Arnie's head back down against the bar, Bobby silenced him immediately. "Take it easy, man. I forgot, okay," Arnie whined, lifting his head up when Bobby let go of him.

"Don't forget," Bobby growled, looking around the room to make sure no one was within earshot. Letting out a slow breath, he was relieved that it was mid-afternoon. Other than one semi-conscious guy at a booth in the back and another sitting at a table watching the TV above the bar, there was no one else around. The bartender wasn't even out front. He slid onto the stool beside Arnie, looking over his shoulder one more time to assure himself that no one else was close enough to overhear their conversation.

"Been a while, _Bobby_," Arnie observed, taking a swig from the half-empty bottle in front of him.

Sam, or Bobby, as he had been known for the past fourteen months, rolled his eyes and shook his head in frustration. Normally, Sam preferred to go in with his real first name attached to a phony last name, but this time, the cover had already been established prior to his involvement. So he became Bobby Farrell, the fictitious cousin of a convict who'd been serving a ten-year sentence for weapons trafficking when he met his untimely demise at the end of a knife whittled by the prison "blacksmith." Bobby's "cousin" had been a prominent player in Davenport's organization before his arrest. So with some skillfully-obtained intel, the team was able to craft a convincing back story, and Sam Swarek slid into the lower rung of Marco Davenport's organization under the guise of a relative of the dearly-departed.

"How's it going, Arnie?"

"Been better," Arnie admitted pathetically. "I could really use some cash, man."

"Tell me what you've got for me, and then we'll talk about that," Sam insisted.

"Not much to tell . . . what do you want to know?" Arnie asked, barely able to hold his head up above the bar.

"Anything you think I might find interesting . . . the possibilities are endless."

Arnie swayed back and forth on his stool, causing Sam to wonder how often the guy ended up on the floor beneath the bar. "Well, I'm hearing you've got a new guy working Sookie's territory. Showed up a few weeks ago looking for some product and he's been around off and on since then. People are talking . . . ."

"Okay, that's good stuff. Not exactly what I was hoping for but still good," Sam assured him. "What else you got?"

"Not much," Arnie admitted. Then, seemingly struck with inspiration, he offered up, "Except there was a guy in here the other day. Driver for someone he kept calling Tate. Dropped off the guy—Tate—and some of his watch dogs at a restaurant a few doors down. Said they were meeting with Davenport. They told him to stick close and be ready when they called him. He was in here for a while, though, so it must've been some meeting. Just thought it was interesting . . . ." Arnie trailed off, taking another drink from his bottle and giving Sam a look that said he knew the information had more value than he was letting on.

"Anything else?" Sam prodded, wanting to squeeze Arnie for everything he could before he doled out any cash.

"Nah. Been pretty dry lately. I'll let you know if I hear anything else."

"Now listen," Sam said, leaning in closely as he slid some bills in Arnie's direction. "There's a little extra in there. I want you to lie low and keep your head down for the next few weeks. Stay off the radar and I'll be in touch."

"Got it. Thanks, man," Arnie responded appreciatively, watching Sam slide off of the adjacent stool and head for the door before dropping his head down on the bar and dozing off.

* * *

"Sammy, what's up?" Donovan Boyd came on the line, and his upbeat tone instantly made Sam cringe. The guy was a little too flippant for someone with so many balls up in the air—especially when some of those balls were human lives.

"Davenport's got a shipment of guns coming through in two weeks. He's hooking up with a new supplier, and it's supposed to be a big one. I think we need to be ready to take them all down at the exchange," Sam informed Boyd.

"You don't think we should let this one go through? Build more credibility within the organization?" Boyd questioned him.

"I want out, Boyd," Sam persisted. "When this deal goes down, I want to haul them all in and be done with it."

"Come on, Sammy. Are you sure?"

"I'm telling you I'm done. I just have a feeling . . . call it intuition or whatever. It's telling me that it's time to get out. And if this shipment's as big as Davenport claims, we can't risk that many guns hitting the streets," Sam warned Boyd. Not only should Boyd be sensitive to that fact, but Sam knew that as a handler, Boyd should also be concerned when one of his guys said he needed to come out. They both knew that an undercover operative who was losing his edge was a danger to himself and the whole operation. But Boyd was getting greedy—too worried that they might miss out on something even bigger if they acted too soon. Sam had seen enough UC ops go awry and had experienced enough of his own near-misses to know that getting too greedy could jeopardize an entire operation.

Silence on the other end of the line told Sam he needed to be more persuasive to get Boyd on board. "Look, everyone is involved in this thing. This is the one," he assured Boyd. "We have the chance to nail them all. I've been under for fourteen months, and I don't know when we'll get another opportunity like this. All of Davenport's main guys will be there."

"Joe Rinko . . . Saul Levy . . . those guys are small fish," Boyd reminded him. "We need Davenport himself."

"And we'll get him if we take them all down in two weeks. He's calling in some of his other guys, too, and one of them is Tito Sykes. That guy's deep into whatever product's out on the streets right now. If we can bury him on weapons charges, he'll be locked up in a cell for years," Sam insisted. Then, pulling another card he said, "We'll even have a shot at one of the major suppliers. What do you know about a guy named Tate?"

"Edmond Tate?" Boyd piped up with interest.

"Don't know, but I think he's the new supplier. Came into town the other day to meet with Davenport. Guy's not from around here."

"Gotta be Edmond Tate. He's a big weapons supplier out west. Could be he's trying to make a name for himself out here," Boyd posited, and Sam could practically hear the wheels turning as Boyd considered the possibility of bringing down Davenport and his associates, as well as Tate. "Okay, okay . . . let's say we do this. Is Tate gonna be at the buy?"

"I won't know anything else for a few days. Davenport wants to meet again, and I'll get as much information as I can."

"And how do you know Davenport will even be there?"

"He will. The guy's a micromanager with an overinflated ego. A shipment this large puts him on a whole different level; his reputation is on the line. He won't risk letting one of his guys screw it up."

"Too bad one of his guys is an undercover cop," Boyd joked.

"Listen," Sam said abruptly. "I'll get in touch with you when I know more. You'll have the team ready to go in two weeks if everything lines up, though, right?"

"Sure, Sammy. We'll be ready. Just keep me in the loop."

"Oh, and Boyd," Sam added offhandedly before hanging up. "Pull in the new guy you've got out there working Sookie D'Angelo's end of town. The guy might as well be walking around with a badge hanging around his neck."

* * *

Sinking down into the dingy mattress in his dive apartment, Sam allowed himself to consider what it was going to feel like to drop his alter ego and go back to being himself again after fourteen months. He'd been trying to keep his head in the game, keep his story straight and just keep himself alive for so long that he was starting to worry that he was losing himself to this Bobby character he'd created. When the opportunity to end the op on a high note presented itself and it happened to align with this feeling Sam had in his gut, he allowed himself to start picturing a return to his real life. This was the longest and deepest he'd ever been in, and he worried that he wouldn't be able to find Sam again when he got back to the other side if he didn't get out soon. So he'd pushed Boyd, knowing it was the right decision for himself and for the op.

It wasn't that he had that much to go back to in his old life—a handful of work colleagues who doubled as good friends, a sister he loved dearly but rarely saw, no parents (at least none he acknowledged) and no serious relationship. But it was his life and he wanted to get back to it. Fourteen months away from reality dealing with the likes of Levy and Rinko was too long, and Sam needed a reprieve.

And then there was this indescribable pull telling him that it was time to get out. He couldn't define it and didn't really understand it, but he actually felt hopeful about going back, as if something might be waiting for him. As inexplicable as it was, the feeling was there and it gave Sam the added incentive he needed to finish up his op and get out.

Smiling to himself as he folded his arms beneath his head on the too-soft mattress, Sam looked around at walls that were the color of pea soup and wondered why anyone would ever paint a room that shade of green. The dingy paint on the ceiling—probably once white—was riddled with tiny cracks that had only gotten worse since he started using the cover apartment. Two of the largest cracks in particular had been almost imperceptible fourteen months before. Now they zig-zagged across the ceiling, nearly intersecting above Sam's bed and making him wonder when the entire thing might come crashing down. As he sank into a deep sleep, he muttered, "I need to get out of here. Time to quit while you're ahead, Swarek."


	2. Chapter 2

**Thank you to everyone for taking the time to leave such nice comments about Chapter 1.  
**

**I feel like I should probably clarify that although this story is AU, it's not a huge departure. If you're looking for a story in which Sam is an astronaut rescuing Andy from a hostage situation on the international space station, that is not this story. Of course, if someone else wants to write about the astronaut thing, I'd totally be up for reading it. :)**

* * *

"Sir, please just quit while you're ahead." Andy scowled as she stood outside the window of a bright blue eco-friendly car. After the morning she'd had, having to listen to an arrogant windbag trying to talk himself out of a ticket had her teetering on the thin line between controlled sarcasm and overt rudeness.

"I'm just asking if you properly calibrated your gun before stopping me. I don't think I could possibly have been going as fast as you say you clocked me," he challenged her.

"Yes I did. And yes you were," she replied curtly, shoving the ticket in the window at him.

"Have you guys ever considered going paperless?" he asked as he inspected the ticket.

"Yeah. We sit around the station talking about it all the time." Andy fought the urge to roll her eyes. "Have a nice day."

As she backed away from the window the guy called her back, "Hey Officer McNally, I don't suppose you'd want to go out sometime?"

"No. I don't suppose I would," she responded. "But if you're lucky, you might see me in court next month." She walked briskly back to the cruiser and dropped into the passenger seat, yanking the door shut and crossing her arms in frustration. Looking over at Chris, she muttered, "You're taking the next two. That guy was a complete disaster. He started off by explaining how his car is scientifically incapable of exceeding the speed limit. He even drew me a diagram to illustrate his point." Andy held up a wrinkled napkin with a messy collection of lines and circles scrawled on it in blue ink.

"Nice. It's like a science lesson and a traffic stop all rolled into one," Chris observed.

Andy plowed ahead with her list of offenses, ticking them off on her fingers one-by-one. "Name-checked his Great Uncle Leonard who retired from 27 Division fifteen years ago . . . mentioned going to pick up his grandmother to take her to church . . . offered me his lunch-"

"Offered you his lunch? What was it? I'm starving."

"Chicken salad."

"Oh."

"Then, of course, he trotted out the standard gun calibration challenge. And he capped it all off by hitting on me."

"Okay. You're right. That's a lot for one stop. But I still don't think it beats the guy who exposed himself to Dov last week," Chris laughed.

"True. No one can top Dov's naked man," Andy admitted with a small grin, momentarily forgetting her irritation as she thought about the look of mortification on Dov's face when he walked back into the station at the end of his shift.

"You know he told us to stop referring to the guy like that," Chris reminded her.

"Yeah, but I'm having a really crappy day," she whined. "I need a little 'funny' to get me through it."

"You never finished telling me what happened this morning. You locked yourself out?"

"Right. So I was taking out the trash in my _pajamas_. On my way out the door I must've flipped the lock without thinking. A neighbor let me use her phone to call Jeff, but then she insisted that I watch one of those cheesy morning talk shows with her while I waited for him to show up. Ugh. The guests were these two sisters who slept with the same-" She interrupted herself, shaking her head back and forth rapidly to clear the image from her mind. "Never mind. All you need to know is that it was pretty terrible. Then, when Jeff showed up, he was understandably annoyed about having to leave work to come over and let me back into my place."

"Jeff was annoyed? I can't picture it. He's always so upbeat," Chris said in disbelief.

"Well, it's generally not okay for a teacher to duck out in the middle of a Chemistry lab—especially not during the first week of summer school. I get why he wasn't happy," she acknowledged with a shrug. "Then, on the way to work, I made the mistake of running into that coffee shop near my building, and there was a rear-ender right out in front of the place while I was in there. The drivers were fighting, so I had to help break it up and wait for a couple of on-duty cops to show up. Oh, and when I got to work I realized I'd forgotten to bring in a clean uniform, which means I'm wearing yesterday's clothes. So naturally, after all of that, I was late for Parade and got stuck out here running speed traps."

Chris looked over at her and winced. "You're really wearing the same uniform you wore yesterday?"

"Got a problem with it?" She asked, arching an eyebrow at him.

"Uh, no," he responded quickly. "Look, why don't we take a break? It's lunchtime and there's that diner just up the street that you like."

"I could use something to eat," she admitted. "They do incredible things with pancakes at that place."

Within fifteen minutes they were settled in a booth at the diner waiting for their lunch to arrive. "You know, one of the best things about being a cop is that you get really good service," Chris declared.

Andy smiled at him from across the booth. It was impossible to stay in a bad mood when Chris was around. He had a tendency to put a positive spin on everything from running a speed trap in the middle of a July heat wave (at least they got to be outside meeting interesting, new people) to sitting in traffic on the way out of the city before a long weekend (they should consider themselves lucky that they had the whole weekend to relax once they got to where they were going). Of course, he had his darker moments, too, but in general, Chris was a fairly positive guy most of the time and Andy appreciated that about him.

"How're things going with you and Denise?" Andy asked and immediately wished she could take back the question when she saw his face fall.

"I think she's seeing someone else," he confessed, receiving an expression of wide-eyed surprise from Andy.

"Why do you think that? I thought things were going really well," she said in confusion. Everything always seemed perfect between Chris and Denise when he talked about their relationship, but maybe that was just another example of him putting a positive spin on a not-so-positive situation.

"It's a lot of little things. She's cancelled on me the last two times I planned to visit her. When she comes here to see me she's always anxious to get back, and she's texting the whole time she's here. She just seems preoccupied, I guess," he reflected. "When we all started at 15 a year ago she used to visit me every weekend, and now we're lucky if we see each other once a month."

"It could be a million things. None of that necessarily means she's seeing someone else," Andy pointed out.

"The thing is, I just have this feeling that I can't explain. I know something's going on." Their waitress appeared with the food and the conversation stopped until she left the table.

"So what are you gonna do?" Andy asked. She reached for the syrup and poured a generous amount on her pancakes.

"I guess I'll talk to her," he said unenthusiastically as he chewed on the end of a french fry. "It's not really a conversation I want to have, but other than going to Timmins and following her around, it's the only way to know for sure. I just wish things could be simple for us like they are with you and Jeff."

"Hey, don't idealize my relationship. We have our ups and downs just like any other couple," Andy admonished him.

"Yeah, sure. Name one 'down' you two have had in recent memory."

"Well, there was . . . ." Andy began but then stopped when she really couldn't come up with a good example of a "down." Worse, though, was that she couldn't produce an "up" either. Everything with them was just the same as it had been for as long as she could remember—consistently fine. "Never mind. We're talking about you," she responded dismissively, deflecting his challenge. "Are you prepared for the possibility that she might actually tell you there's someone else?"

"I don't know. We've been together since we were teenagers. It's hard to imagine _not _being with her. It's just that once I put it out there and she admits it, we're done. I don't know if I'm ready to throw it all away yet," Chris admitted with a hint of desperation in his tone.

"I know it's got to be incredibly difficult," Andy agreed. "I mean, you've been in this relationship for years and you have time invested in it. There are emotions involved. Making that move to try something new has to be scary. And obviously you don't want to make a wrong choice on a whim and lose out on something great. But if things aren't right, you can't stay in an extended holding pattern forever."

"So you agree that I should talk to her?" he asked dubiously.

Andy sighed. "Yeah. I guess I do. Even if there's no one else in the picture, it sounds like you two need to figure out what you both want, and if that's no longer each other, you shouldn't stay together just because it's the comfortable option."

"You're right. Okay, I'm doing it," he decided, pounding a fist lightly on the table for emphasis. "I'm supposed to visit her this weekend—that is, if she doesn't cancel on me—and I'm confronting her."

'You've totally got this," Andy said supportively, sending him an encouraging smile as she forked a large bite of pancakes into her mouth.

* * *

"$10 bucks says it's just some homeless guy who broke in looking for a place to stay," Chris speculated as they responded to a call that had just come in on the radio. A neighboring tenant had noticed suspicious activity at a nearby warehouse that happened to be in the vicinity of their afternoon speed trap.

"Kind of sad if that's what it is. Poor guy's looking for a place to sleep and we bust him for trespassing," Andy mused.

"Hey, if it gets us off of speed traps for a while, I'll walk around and check out all the old buildings they want. Did you see what that last guy did when he was driving away after I gave him the ticket?"

"I did," Andy confirmed, holding back a laugh.

"What kind of person flips off a cop?" Chris asked indignantly. "No one appreciates what we do these days. Do they think we like traipsing around the city in Kevlar vests and black pants on one of the hottest days of the year?"

"I'm pretty sure they don't think about it at all," she informed him as they pulled up to a faded blue industrial building. They climbed out of the cruiser, and Andy did a quick visual scan of the perimeter. There were no cars outside and no signs of activity.

"It's probably some kids pranking the cops. Guys flipping us off at traffic stops . . . kids sending us out on fake calls . . . . Doesn't anyone respect the police anymore?" Chris grumbled as he walked toward a weathered metal door on the front of the building.

"Careful there or you'll lose that positive outlook of yours," Andy warned him, making a mental note to try and be more upbeat when they got back in the car. She didn't want her own bad day to affect Chris' mood.

Andy ducked back into the car and picked up the radio to confirm the address with dispatch. "This is 1520. We're at the warehouse, and there's nothing going on here. We'll just do a quick check and take off," she explained. She listened as the dispatcher recounted information regarding the caller and the building owner, and then she joined Chris at the door of the building.

He rattled the door knob and shook his head. "The place is locked up tight."

"I'm just gonna check around the corner," Andy said as she began walking to the left. "It could be a real call. Dispatch said someone from a neighboring building was walking by and heard noises inside. Apparently, the place has been vacant for a while and the neighbor was nervous because a few months ago there were some kids vandalizing buildings in the area. Dispatch tried to reach the building owner, but the number was disconnected."

"I'll take a quick peek over on the other side," Chris agreed easily, walking in the opposite direction.

When Andy rounded the corner of the building, she saw more of the same—just a faded metal façade with a small alley running alongside it. Up ahead, a grey cat startled her when it bounded out from underneath a garbage bin beside the building next door. The cat eyed Andy suspiciously before darting toward the building they were investigating. A door up ahead was cracked, and the cat nudged it open and slipped inside, leaving it slightly ajar. When Andy got there, she saw several cigarette butts scattered around nearby but no signs of forced entry or anything that looked suspicious. Sticking her foot in the door, she pushed it open slowly and peered inside, letting out a relieved breath when she saw absolutely nothing. It was just a large warehouse filled with rows of empty shelves. Light flooded in from several high windows, reflecting off of dust particles as they floated around in the air. With the exception of a closed door to her left that she assumed must be an office, there wasn't much to see other than a heavy layer of dust on every surface.

"Chris, there's a door open over on this side, and it looks like some animals might be coming in and out of it. That could explain the noise the neighbor heard. Someone probably forgot to close it all the way. I'll just take a quick look around and meet you back at the car," she said into her radio.

"Nothing over on this side. I'm on my way back," he responded.

Andy sighed, wondering whether she should look a little further into the building or just secure the door and leave. Noting the overabundance of cobwebs, it was obvious to her that the only living beings that had been inside for a long time were mice, rats, bats and now, an annoying grey cat. She couldn't even imagine a homeless person wanting to hang out in there. Andy sighed to herself as she reluctantly made the decision to do a cursory search for the cat before shutting it up inside and leaving it to fend for itself.

Rows of metal shelves ran perpendicular to a center aisle that appeared to span almost the entire length of the warehouse. Andy walked carefully and quietly down the aisle, not wanting to disturb anything that could possibly run out across her feet. At each row, she looked left and right to see if she could spot the cat. As she approached the last row, she made the decision that it was a lost cause. The cat could be anywhere and obviously didn't want to be found. Just as she decided to turn back, though, she heard muffled voices coming from behind the last row of shelves. Easing to her left, she moved out of the aisle and looked through the shelving to see what was happening on the other side.

Two men were standing in an open area near a grey cargo van. Only minimal conversation seemed to be flowing between them, and Andy assumed that was why she hadn't heard them sooner. As she looked at the area around them, she realized the van must have entered the building through a garage door in the back, explaining why no cars were parked outside. One of the men was tall and lanky with a messy array of sandy-blond hair. He glanced around the space absently, his droopy eyes giving him the appearance of being very tired or very strung out. His companion, by contrast, had dark hair and wore a serious expression. His arms were crossed and his feet were positioned apart in a stance that suggested he was much more alert than his inattentive companion.

Suddenly, the serious guy spoke up. "What's taking Levy so long?" he asked impatiently, looking at his watch.

"Take it easy, man. He's probably just taking a leak," the shaggy guy offered.

A strange prickle ran up Andy's neck at the mention of a third guy in the building. She had only seen the two and wondered where the other one was. At the same time, it occurred to her that she should probably radio to Chris for backup before approaching the men to find out if they had a legitimate purpose for being there. Sliding a hand up to her radio, she made a move to turn down the volume in case Chris responded. She didn't want to spook the men before he got there. Before she could turn it down, though, a heavy hand gripped her shoulder from behind.

Spinning around, Andy found herself facing a balding, red-faced man with an unsavory air about him. A tight smile stretched across his bloated face as he released her shoulder and dropped his hand back to his side. "What can we do for you, Officer?" he asked in an overly-polite tone that did nothing to assuage Andy's concerns about his shady demeanor. She realized he must have come from the office she passed when she entered the building.

Andy could hear the footsteps of the other two men moving toward them as she explained her purpose for being there. "A neighbor called in a report. Said he heard something over here and that the building's usually empty, so we just stopped by to check it out," she said evenly, making sure to throw in a reference to "we" so they would know she wasn't alone.

The other two men rounded the end of the shelf and crowded in beside their friend, blocking Andy's access to the aisle. As they stood in front of her, the shaggy one mumbled something unintelligible. His next move took her completely off-guard as he reached behind his back and pulled a gun out of his waist band. Andy didn't even have a chance to draw her own weapon before he aimed the gun at her with his left hand.

"Put that thing away, Rinko," the balding guy scoffed. "Sorry, Officer. We're just here doing maintenance for the building owner. Joe," he paused and angled his head in the direction of his gun-wielding associate, "just gets a little excited when there's a big, empty space and no one around."

Andy looked into the eyes of the guy they were calling Rinko, and alternately Joe, and saw that not only did he lack focus but he also looked slightly crazed. "Just looking out for the Boss," he explained vaguely. He shook his head back and forth, and Andy assumed he was trying to focus.

From beside Rinko, the dark, serious guy crept slowly into his personal space, cautiously raising a hand toward the gun. Shifting her attention away from the gun momentarily, Andy met his gaze for one long second. His eyes were sharp and focused, and she felt drawn in as a look of understanding passed between them. Her attention was quickly yanked back to Rinko, however, when he started whining and waving the gun around erratically.

"She could ruin everything," Rinko complained, slurring his speech. "Gotta take care of it . . . keep the Boss happy."

Gradually, he steadied the gun again and Andy found herself bracing involuntarily. Time seemed to crawl by in slow motion as she assessed her options. She could try turning around and running down the row at her back, but assuming that it didn't dead-end, she would most likely end up with a bullet in her back if the guy decided to shoot. She could attempt to disarm him, but his erratic behavior suggested that any sudden movements would probably be a bad idea. A third option presented itself—talking him down. She decided to give it a try.

Before she could do that, though, the serious guy started speaking in a calm, level tone that could have sliced through steel. "Put down the gun, Rinko," he said. His eyes darted quickly from the gun to Andy and back again as if he were trying to determine the best course of action, too.

"Listen, I don't know who your Boss is or anything about his business, Joe," Andy addressed Rinko evenly. "All I know is that you don't want to shoot a cop." She hoped she sounded confident even though she was doing everything in her power not to succumb to the fear that was gripping her.

"Doesn't matter who you are. You're in the way. The Boss doesn't like people who are in the way," he responded in a garbled tone that was just clear enough to be understood. As she watched the gun, she noticed that the serious guy still had his hand poised close to it as if he were hoping to disarm Rinko. Andy knew the situation was precarious because there was really no way to wrest the gun from the guy's grip that wouldn't result in setting him off and getting someone—most likely Andy—shot. "The Boss will know who to thank for this. He'll see who's got his back."

"Come on, Joe," the bald guy cautioned half-heartedly. He inched away from Andy in a very obvious attempt to distance himself from the gun. At that point, Andy assumed he was probably hoping Rinko would just pull the trigger so they wouldn't have to deal with the fallout associated with holding a police officer at gunpoint.

Andy looked at the serious guy again and saw that he was regarding her with a purposeful stare. As he nodded his head subtly, she got the impression that he wanted her to back up. She had no reason to trust him, but she did. After all, out of the three men in the warehouse with her, he was the only one who seemed concerned about the gun pointed in her direction.

Andy took one tiny step backwards but froze when Rinko said, "Don't move." His tone sounded desperate, and his gun hand was shaking.

The serious guy repeated his directive from earlier. "Joe. Put down the gun. The Boss won't be happy about you shooting a cop. It'll only bring a lot of heat down on him and you know how he hates that." As he talked, his voice assumed a hypnotic quality, and Andy got the impression that the conversation was merely a distraction because while he was talking, he seemed to be lining himself up to step in between her and Rinko.

Suddenly, Andy's radio crackled and Chris' voice spilled out into the empty warehouse. "Andy, is everything okay? Where are you?"

She barely heard Chris because as soon as his voice came through the radio, Rinko steadied his hand and pulled the trigger. The serious guy yelled, "Joe! No!" as Rinko fired off two shots in rapid succession. The deafening effect of gunshots at close range quickly dissolved into a discordant mix of noise as the sound ping-ponged around the large empty space.

The initial pain was sudden and intense, and as Andy felt the bullet rip through her right arm she screamed. That first pain was almost immediately followed up by a second more powerful one that felt like a massive punch to the gut. Her insides seemed to be splintering into a million pieces as the second impact stole her breath and propelled her backwards. Andy gasped hoarsely for the air she craved, knowing that the act of drawing in a breath might also tear her body in half. Something hard banged against the back of her head, and after that, there was nothing.


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter three . . . here we go. Thanks for reading. You guys are really awesome.  
**

* * *

Sam didn't know how long he'd been sitting there. With his head in his hands and his elbows on his knees, he was hunched forward in the hard, plastic hospital chair, allowing the events from the prior day to run on a continuous loop in his mind. If he had to guess, he would say he'd probably been there for fifteen, maybe twenty minutes. At one point, a nurse came in, clearly surprised to find him in the room after visiting hours. Sam mumbled something about working a day shift and not being able to visit sooner. He also told her he was a cousin. That seemed to be enough to earn him a temporary pass to the room because the nurse gave him a brief, unsolicited update—after all, he was family—and left him alone. It wasn't that he wanted to lie. He just knew that if he told the nurse the truth she'd make him leave, and Sam wasn't ready to go yet.

He raised his head from his hands and looked at Andy McNally. Even in sleep, she had that same strong presence Sam first noticed at the warehouse. Perhaps it was that feeling of solidity that compelled him to disregard the risk to himself and his undercover op by coming there to check on her. As she slept quietly, Sam heard an occasional sign of life like a small snore or a sigh, and he knew that whatever meds the doctors had prescribed for her must be doing their job. According to the nurse, the painkillers would probably keep her asleep for a while. The nurse also emphasized that Andy needed her rest, leaving Sam with the impression that although he was being granted permission to sit in the room with her, he'd be out the door if he woke her up. And that arrangement was more than fine as far as he was concerned; he had no plans to wake her up. In fact, his decision to stop in at the hospital had been made with the hope that he wouldn't have to talk to her. Sam had briefly considered what a conversation might be like after what happened at the warehouse. He figured he'd have to be up front with her about his UC assignment and rely on her willingness to keep his secret. Beyond that, he assumed she would associate him with getting shot and that she would probably hold him responsible for not stopping Rinko before the gun went off. Fortunately, none of his hypotheticals mattered, though, because she was asleep and unlikely to wake up while he was in the room.

Sam wasn't sure why he'd come. He knew he should have just asked Boyd for an update on her condition and left it at that, but he couldn't shake the compulsion to see her in person and know that she was okay. So he came, hoping that if he showed up outside of visiting hours he wouldn't bump into anyone he knew.

Once he found out where she'd been admitted, it hadn't been difficult to get her room number. Sam gave the same story about being a cousin to the girl at the reception desk downstairs and she offered up the information easily. In fact, the ease with which he discovered Andy McNally's location convinced him that it would be a good idea to have a cop guarding her room even though he was fairly certain Davenport wouldn't make a move on her. For one thing, the guy wouldn't want to draw unnecessary attention to his operations, especially with the Tate deal on the line. By going after a cop who'd just been shot in one of his warehouses, he'd be doing just that. Davenport was smart enough to know that it wouldn't take much for someone to connect the dots between the warehouse shooting and anything that happened afterwards to McNally. And once the warehouse, or whatever dummy corporation owned it, was traced back to him, the connection would be made and his business dealings would be under a microscope.

Sam had also put forth a pretty convincing case to Davenport that she hadn't observed or overheard anything that could threaten the impending weapons deal with Tate. Out of fear that the Boss might hold him partially responsible for what happened, Levy even provided some unexpected assistance by corroborating Sam's incredibly skewed assessment of the events that transpired at the warehouse. In the end, he was able to assure himself that Davenport would leave McNally alone because she wasn't a threat. Still, Sam felt like he had already failed to protect her once, and he wasn't going to let that happen again. So he intended to call Boyd as soon as he left the hospital to insist that someone be placed outside of her room as a precaution.

While he sat in the chair near her bed, Sam couldn't decide if it was the hypnotic silence in the room or the peaceful stillness of a sleeping Andy McNally, but he felt a steady calmness wash over him. And now, he didn't want to leave. As he stared down at the linoleum, he realized it had barely been twenty-four hours since things went sideways and she'd been shot during his op. He hadn't been able to protect her, and now she was lying in a hospital bed because of him.

Sam shook his head slowly as his mind scanned through images from the day before, trying to find the point at which he could have prevented the shooting.

"_Joe. Put down the gun. The Boss won't be happy about you shooting a cop. It'll only bring a lot of heat down on him and you know how he hates that," Sam warned Rinko in a tone that he hoped was equal parts persuasive and intimidating. He eased toward Rinko, trying not to spook him with any sudden movements. Sam was hoping for an opportunity to disarm Rinko without giving him the chance to fire off a shot. And if disarming him didn't present itself as a viable option, he was planning to edge in between the gun and the cop-McNally, according to her nametag-and try to talk some sense into the guy. _

_When the radio crackled to life suddenly, time seemed to speed up. Sam watched as Rinko's hand tensed and his finger twitched on the trigger. "Joe! No!" he yelled and lunged for the gun. Rinko fired two times in quick succession, and out of the corner of his eye he saw McNally falling backwards as he tackled Rinko to the ground and ripped the gun out of his hand. From somewhere behind him he heard Levy scream, "You just shot a cop!" _

_Rolling off of Rinko, Sam kept a firm hold on the gun as he crawled quickly across the floor toward McNally. From behind, the garage door was going up and he could hear Levy yelling at him to hurry up. Sam knew he needed to get out of there or risk blowing his cover. He couldn't go until he checked on her, though. She was unconscious. Blood was pooling around her right forearm and she'd taken a shot in the vest. Hoping Levy and Rinko would be too wrapped up in saving their own necks to pay attention, he reached for her radio and uttered a frantic plea, "Officer down. Officer down." _

_Sam was giving the address of the warehouse when a male voice yelled, "Andy!" The side door swung open and he heard heavy footsteps pounding against the concrete. Knowing her partner would be on them within seconds, he dragged himself to a standing position and looked at her one more time before dashing toward the van. Sam got to it just as Levy whipped out into the alley behind the warehouse. He wrenched open the side door and managed to fall inside and slam it behind him just before the van accelerated. In the distance, he could hear sirens and only hoped the medics got there soon._

_Sitting on the floor in the back of the van, Sam put his head in his hands as panic enveloped him and he struggled to breathe. When he regained control, he forced himself to assess everything that had just happened. In addition to the arm shot, the cop took a vest shot at close range. As long as the bullet didn't penetrate the vest, she could be okay. The force of the bullets likely knocked her backwards onto the ground. She was unconscious, and that worried him. She could have hit her head in the fall. Or she could be in shock. Blood loss was another option he considered to explain why she was unconscious. Sam ran his hands through his hair desperately. He had to know if the bullet had pierced the vest and why she was unconscious. _

_In the front of the van, Levy and Rinko were chattering away in panicky bursts. Their very presence in his vicinity invoked a physical reaction in Sam, and he fought back the bile that was rising in his throat. They reminded him of two nervous cockroaches scurrying around trying to protect themselves. _

"_What's the Boss gonna say about this?" Levy yelled angrily. _

"_I did what I had to do. She was too close. Might have blown the whole deal," Rinko cried out, waving his arms around for emphasis. He was suddenly sounding more lucid than he had been only minutes before. Sam assumed the shooting had been a key factor in bringing him out of whatever drug-induced haze he'd been enjoying for most of the morning._

"_She didn't know anything! She was just checking out a neighbor's complaint. Now the Boss has a hot warehouse and we've gotta ditch this van," Levy shrieked, stopping to draw a breath when he started to wheeze._

"_What should we do?" Rinko whined nervously, leaning his head against the glass of the passenger window._

"We?" _Sam growled angrily from behind Rinko. On this, he was sure he and Levy would agree. Needing an outlet for his own anger, he sprang toward the passenger seat and snaked an arm around Rinko's neck from behind, locking him into a chokehold. "This was all you, man. If there's a price to be paid, you're the one who's paying it." Sam wanted to punch him until he passed out—or worse—but satisfied himself with squeezing until he managed to cut off the guy's air supply. Rinko fought for air, and Sam refused to let up. When he started turning blue Sam released him and sat back in the van coldly, knowing that one way or another he'd make sure Rinko paid for what he'd just done. _

_Hours later, after dumping the van, Levy, Rinko and Sam endured a torrent of abusive language and barely-controlled rage from Marco Davenport when they showed up at his main warehouse and explained what had happened. Initially, he was certain that the only option was to call off the deal with Tate because it had been jeopardized. As he calmed down, however, Sam could see Davenport's ambition taking over. The risk of losing out on what had the potential to be a very profitable association seemed too great for Davenport, and after some careful consideration, he decided to move forward as long as the heat stayed off of them. _

_As soon as Davenport dismissed them, Sam extricated himself from Levy and Rinko and rushed back to his cover apartment to call Boyd. _

"_Sammy. Is everything okay?" Boyd asked immediately. To his credit, the guy actually sounded concerned. Knowing Boyd, though, Sam figured that any concern probably had more to do with the possibility of a blown op than any anxiety about Sam's welfare. _

"_I'm fine," Sam answered abruptly, assuming Boyd must have heard about what happened from one of his guys on the street. "What about the cop who got shot? Is she okay?" That was Sam's first thought and the first thing that spilled out of his mouth. Until he got the information he needed, Boyd wasn't getting anything else out of him._

"_She's okay," Boyd assured him. "She's stable. Took a shot in the arm. Bullet only grazed her, though, so there's no permanent damage. She also got one in the vest—mostly bruising and swelling from that. And she has a concussion. Something hit her hard on the back of the head and knocked her out. At least, that's what they think."_

"_She fell backwards into some metal shelves, so it had to be that or the concrete when she hit the floor," Sam reasoned, rubbing his hand across his forehead and pacing back and forth as he processed the information. "Are you sure she's okay?"_

"_I just got off the phone with Frank, and I'm telling you exactly what he told me. I called over there to tell him we'd be handling the investigation, and he'd just gotten an update from the hospital."_

"_So she works out of 15," Sam muttered, confirming what he already suspected based on the warehouse's location._

"_Yeah," Boyd said with only mild interest. "They've got her patched up and her prognosis is good. She's being kept in the hospital to monitor the head injury. Why all the concern? It's not like you've never seen someone get shot before. You've even taken out a few people yourself."_

_Even if Sam had been planning to answer the question, which he wasn't, Boyd didn't give him the chance. "Just tell me . . . what was she doing there anyway?" Boyd ranted. "She could have blown the whole operation. Sammy, _please_ tell me she didn't blow it for us."_

"_She was just doing her job," Sam responded evenly, straining for patience. "She didn't know what she was stumbling into. And everything's fine. Davenport's planning to use his main warehouse to store the shipment, and we dumped the van. Above all, he wants this deal to go well, so he won't shut down the buy unless it's absolutely necessary. He knows that if he does, Tate will take his business elsewhere."  
_

"_Good, good," Boyd replied, sounding relieved. "We'll just keep the attention off of him and hopefully that'll be enough to give him the warm fuzzies so he'll move things along and we can bust him."_

"_Here's what needs to happen, though," Sam spoke up. "Someone has to go over and talk to Davenport if he's listed as the property owner of that warehouse. He'll be expecting it, and if no one shows up, it might seem 'off.' But they've got to take it easy on him. If he feels too much pressure, he could still pull the plug and then we'll lose our shot at him."_

"_Already taking care of it. Like I said, I got our unit assigned to the investigation into the shooting. That way we can take it at our own pace—stall it until after the takedown. No sense in having someone else running around gathering facts and stirring up trouble when we already have a firsthand account. The building's owned by a dummy corporation that's not directly traceable back to Marco Davenport's organization. So he won't expect to see someone knocking on his door right away. If we find out the corporation can be traced back to him, we'll send over a guy in a few days so he doesn't get suspicious. We'll apply just the right amount of pressure to make it look convincing. Don't worry, Sammy. We've got that part covered. And I guess I'll go over and take a statement from the cop who got shot in case anyone gets suspicious about why we're not running an active investigation. Kind of a waste of time, though. We already know who did it and where to find him. Did you find out anything more about the Tate deal?"_

Sam shifted his thoughts back to the present. He rolled his eyes at Boyd's casual reference to the number of people he had been forced to shoot during his career. As irritating as Boyd was, though, he was right. Sam had seen people get shot before. It was never easy to witness a shooting or be the shooter, but this time, it felt different. He couldn't understand why he was so anxious about this woman. He knew it had something to do with the looks that passed between them in the warehouse. She had been working hard to hold it together even though he could see that she was terrified. Sam remembered the fear and determination he'd seen in her eyes right before Rinko shot her. In those moments while he held her gaze, he felt like they understood each other and shared a common goal. And then she'd been shot, and he was left feeling responsible because he hadn't acted fast enough to stop it.

Sam stood up to leave. He'd been fortunate so far and didn't want to press his luck any further. She could wake up at any time and that would only complicate things.

On his way to the door, he stopped at her bedside. "I'm sorry," he whispered. "I thought I could save you and the op. I can't believe I let this happen." He shook his head and waited a few more seconds before heading toward the door. When he got to the hallway he turned back to look at her once more before taking his leave, knowing that if he ever saw her again, it would be on the other side of a successful sting.

* * *

"Hi Dad," Andy murmured, drawing in a breath and opening her eyes slowly. She squinted as the bright morning sunlight poured through the window of her hospital room. After a pretty decent night of sleep, she felt fuzzy but rested, and strangely content. She definitely felt better than when she regained consciousness in the ambulance two days before, and that seemed to suggest good things for her recovery.

"Morning, Sweetheart," Tommy McNally responded with affection. He'd been sitting in a chair near the window reading the newspaper while she slept, but when he saw her squinting, he got up and twisted the blinds to filter the light coming into the room.

"Thanks," she said, managing a small smile. "How long have you been here?"

"Not long. I passed Jeff on my way in. Said he'd be back after his last class," Tommy updated her as he dragged the chair across the floor to her bedside.

"Was he here last night?" she asked.

"I don't think so. He just stopped by before class to see how your night went. He didn't want to wake you, so he said to tell you he'd see you this afternoon." He brushed a strand of hair away from her face and smiled affectionately at her.

"I just thought he might have been here last night," she said quietly, not really sure why she felt like he'd been in the room with her while she slept. It was just a feeling that clung to her as she shook off the haziness from her night of sleep. She felt a warm contentment, almost like she'd been wrapped in a pair of strong arms while she slept.

"Not that I know of," Tommy said with a shrug. "You were sleeping pretty deeply, so I doubt you would have noticed even if he did stop by. They've got you on some strong stuff for the pain, you know."

"Yeah, I know," Andy agreed, letting out a weak laugh that seemed to please her Dad because he smiled wide in response.

"Your doctor was in a little while ago," Tommy informed her brightly.

"Yeah?"

"I think they want to get you up out of bed today. He mentioned sending you home tomorrow if all goes well. They just want to make sure you're not feeling dizzy or lightheaded and that the abdominal bruising and swelling is looking better."

"I feel fine. Just tired," she assured him. "And whatever I need to do to get out of here is more than okay with me. I'll do sprints down the hallway if that's what it takes."

"Take it easy, Kiddo," Tommy told her, chuckling lightly. "Maybe start off with a short walk from the bed to the door and back. But only after the doctor clears it," he amended quickly.

"You know you don't have to sit here with me all day, Dad. If you need to go out and do something, don't worry about me. I'm not going anywhere—at least not today, apparently."

"You're trying to kick your old man out?"

"No," she said with a laugh. "I just don't want you wasting your whole day here with me like you did yesterday."

"Well, as it turns out, I like wasting time with my one and only daughter. Besides, you're usually too busy to make time for your dear old Dad, so I'm planning to take advantage of this opportunity as long as it lasts."

"Thanks, Dad." She smiled lazily at him. "You're the best."

* * *

"Andy McNally?" A clipped male voice preceded a series of quick raps against the door of her hospital room. Andy pulled her attention away from the movie she was watching. In spite of his protests to the contrary, her Dad had agreed to take a break for a while in the afternoon, finally allowing himself to be persuaded into going out for a walk and a bite to eat. "Donovan Boyd," the guy muttered by way of introduction, nodding his head to her as he entered the room and headed for the chair near the bed. A badge hung on a chain around his neck, and Andy assumed he was a detective, although she'd never seen him before.

"May I?" he asked, already settling into the chair with his legs spread apart and his hands on his knees.

"Be my guest," Andy said with a smirk. "Are you from 27?"

"Guns and Gangs. We're taking the lead on the investigation into your shooting," he explained as he bounced a pen on one knee. He was gripping a notepad in the other hand.

"Guns and Gangs?" Andy asked with a confused expression.

Boyd nodded dismissively as he scanned the room. Andy felt a frenetic energy pulsating off of him. From the curls on his head to the foot that was tapping impatiently against the floor, everything about the guy seemed tightly-wound. "Why don't we just get this over with?" he suggested. "Can you tell me how you ended up in that warehouse?"

"Let's see," Andy began. She'd gone over the events leading up to the shooting a lot while she'd been in the hospital, knowing it was only a matter of time before someone showed up to take her statement. In fact, she'd been surprised when there wasn't someone waiting to talk to her as soon as she regained consciousness. "Chris Diaz and I answered a call from dispatch about suspicious activity at the warehouse. The place had been empty for a while, so a neighbor called it in. I went in a side door—"

"By yourself?" he asked critically.

"Yeah. Chris was checking one side of the building and I took the other. I found an open door and assumed it had been left that way by mistake—maybe blown open by the wind. A cat ran inside, and I wanted to try to get it out before locking it up in there."

"_A cat_?"

"Yes, a cat," she sighed. He had yet to write anything down, and her read on him was that he was less than enthusiastic about having to take her statement.

"You didn't think about calling your partner to back you up? Why would you go in there alone?"

"It didn't seem like there was a serious threat. I mean, the place looked abandoned and there were no cars outside. Dispatch said the neighbor was concerned about kids vandalizing buildings in the area," she explained with a shrug. "Obviously, in hindsight, I probably shouldn't have gone in alone, but at the time, it didn't seem like a big deal."

"And you ran into the shooter when you got inside?"

"Not exactly," she informed him. He slumped back in his chair as he waited for her to continue.

"So what _exactly_ happened next?" he prodded her. Frustration seeped into his tone.

"Well, like I said, I was looking for the cat and then I ran into one of the guys. He surprised me from behind."

"One of the guys? How many were there?"

"Three," she told him. "One of them was really serious and focused—almost intense. He had dark hair and dark eyes, maybe in his early thirties. The second guy—the one who surprised me from behind—was short, balding and really out-of-shape. I mean, the guy could definitely use a gym membership, if you know what I mean," she joked, trying to get the detective to lighten up. When he didn't bite, she added, "I heard the dark-haired guy refer to him as Levy."

"And the other one?" he asked, his eyebrows settling into a deep V as he did a poor job of concealing his irritation.

"His name was Joe— "

"Joe. Great. That's not a common name or anything," Boyd muttered.

"Joe _Rinko_," Andy finished. "He was shaggy, spacey, probably on something . . . sandy blond hair and brown eyes. Could definitely use a shampoo and a shave. There was a real disconnect with the guy," she explained. "Um, did you want to write down any of this?"

"No, I'm fine," he remarked, starting to sound rankled. "How long have you been a cop?"

"A year."

"Well that's one-eighth of the amount of time I've put in, so why don't we just leave the decisions about how to run this investigation to me?" he responded abruptly.

Andy raised an eyebrow at him and did her best to remain calm.

"So which guy was the shooter? The one who surprised you or the one who was on something?"

"How do you know it wasn't the third guy?" she asked curiously.

"Just tell me which guy was the shooter," he demanded and Andy thought it might be possible that his head was going to spin off like a top. She bit back a laugh as the image passed through her mind.

"The shaggy one with the hygiene issues. The one they called Rinko," she answered simply.

"Okay, so the first guy surprised you from behind and then the shaggy one shot you . . ." Boyd summarized.

"Well, yes, but some things happened in between," she answered, refusing to let him rush her.

"Fine," Boyd said with a grimace. He started to roll his eyes but seemed to think better of it and abandoned the gesture. The point had been made nonetheless. "What else happened in between? Enlighten me-_please_."

Not willing to let Boyd intimidate her, Andy said, "Since you asked so nicely . . . this guy—Levy—surprised me from behind while I was watching the other two through some shelving. He called the other guys over and Rinko pulled out a gun. The dark-haired guy tried to talk him into putting it down and even looked like he was going to try to disarm him or maybe step in between Rinko and me. But you know what was really weird?"

"I can only imagine," he said sarcastically.

"When he looked at me I had this feeling that I could trust him. Right before I got shot, we shared a look. It was a really odd moment, and I don't know, it just stood out to me."

At that, Boyd did make good on the eye roll he cut short before. "So you're in the middle of an old warehouse with three thugs, one of whom is waving around a gun, and you're telling me about a _moment_ you shared with one of the guys?"

"What? _No_," Andy protested. "I'm just saying, the guy didn't seem to be in the same league as the other two. He was definitely trying to stop Rinko from firing the gun."

"Why don't we just focus on the one who actually _did_ shoot you?" Boyd suggested impatiently. "What can you tell me about him?"

Done with being polite, Andy said, "Look, I got shot two days ago, and I'm just surprised you don't seem more interested in that. Usually when a cop gets shot it's kind of a priority to find out who did it, but you waited two days to come in and take a statement from me-the only eye witness to the crime. You haven't taken any notes and you've made it very clear that you'd rather be somewhere else since you walked through that door. And to top it all off, you've got some cop I don't even know hanging around outside the door questioning anyone who tries to come into my room to visit," she tossed at him angrily.

Boyd rolled his eyes and threw up his hands when she brought up the cop guarding the door. "Well, like I said, when you've been at this as long as I have, Rook, you can run your investigations however you want. Until then, why don't you just sit tight and let me do my job," he told her, looking visibly agitated. "You know what, I think we have everything we need here. I'll be in touch." He stood up unexpectedly and with a dismissive wave of his hand, walked out of the room.

"Wow, what a lovely human being," Andy muttered to herself when he was gone.


	4. Chapter 4

**This chapter is sort of a bridge to the next one. If you're wondering when they're going to officially meet, then you'll probably be interested in the next chapter. I'll post again soon. Many thanks for all of the nice comments from everyone. You guys make this fun.**

* * *

"Lucky me," Andy chirped with forced cheerfulness when she opened the door to find Traci standing on her doorstep with a white bakery box in her hands. "An unexpected visit from the outside world . . . ."

"How's the invalid?" Ignoring the hint of bitterness in Andy's greeting, Traci breezed past her and headed straight for the sitting area. "I see you're enjoying the good life," she remarked, wincing as she surveyed the room. It was late afternoon and the collection of empty mugs, dishes and magazines littering the floor and coffee table gave away the fact that Andy had been in the vicinity of the couch for most of the day.

"I'm so bored," Andy whimpered dramatically. She flopped down on the couch and cleared a space for Traci at the other end by pushing aside a blanket and a few pillows.

"Just think of it as a nice little vacation on the department's nickel," Traci suggested. "It's always good to take some time to relax and decompress." She kicked off her shoes and folded up her legs underneath her on the couch.

"Relaxation is overrated. I've been sitting here on this couch for almost two weeks, and I'm pretty close to losing my mind at this point," Andy complained. She dropped her head against the back of the couch and propped up her feet on the coffee table, nudging a mug and saucer to the side with her socked foot.

"At least the end's in sight," Traci pointed out. "You're back in two days. Surely you can make it through two more days."

"What choice do I have? You know, at first I was irritated about having to go back on light duty, but after riding this couch for two weeks I don't even care. Whatever gets me back into the uniform is fine by me. And after a few days, if all goes well, my doctor said he'll release me to return to full duty."

"Did you get your psych eval yet?"

"Yep. It wasn't the most pleasant hour of my life, but it went okay and she cleared me."

"Have you been thinking about the shooting a lot?" Traci asked slowly, watching Andy closely from the other end of the couch.

"Some. The shrink said that's healthy, though, because it helps me to work through what happened," Andy explained, regurgitating what the psychologist had told her at the end of her session. "Speaking of the shooting, have you heard anything about the status of the investigation?"

"Not really," Traci responded with a shrug. "We've been asked to back off and let Guns and Gangs take the lead."

"Why?" Andy wondered irritably. "What does any of this have to do with Guns and Gangs?"

"Well, nothing's official, but the word around the station is that the shooting was somehow tied to one of their ops."

"If they're leading the investigation, why wouldn't they do a better job of taking my statement? And why haven't they followed up with me? I'm the only firsthand witness they've got. It doesn't make sense."

"I guess they must know what they're doing. Maybe they already have everything they need," Traci speculated.

"Maybe," Andy muttered with obvious skepticism. "So you don't think they're dropping the ball then?"

"Honestly, I don't know. All I know is that we've been asked not to get involved. You know cops take care of each other, so if there isn't a full-scale investigation going on, there must be a reason. They might even have a suspect already."

"I guess," Andy agreed in a non-committal tone. "You should've seen the detective they sent out to take my statement." It was the first chance she'd had to talk to Traci about the visit from Detective Boyd, and even after a week-and-a-half, Andy was still bothered by the encounter.

"Piece of work, huh?"

"That's an understatement," Andy laughed. "The guy definitely has some issues. Hopefully, he doesn't do much work with the general public because his people skills are pretty pathetic."

"Who was it?"

"Just some detective from Guns and Gangs—Donovan Boyd," Andy mumbled. "He hardly asked me any questions and didn't write down anything I said. The whole experience was just really weird, Trace."

"Well, they must know what they're doing. Just give it some time," Traci advised her. "Your primary focus should be on relaxing and getting better—and coming back to work. We need you back," she said and then quickly amended her statement. "_I_ need you back. I can only handle so much of Gail by myself."

"You're probably right," Andy conceded with a sigh, knowing there was very little she could do about the investigation until she got back to work anyway. "Okay, so enough about me . . . . Tell me something interesting to take my mind off of everything. Got any good gossip?"

"It's only been two weeks. How exciting do you think 15 is?"

"Come on," Andy groaned impatiently. "Throw me a bone. Surely Dov's been doing something that's worth talking about."

"Always," Traci agreed with a laugh. "He's actually seeing someone new. She's the sister of a woman he and Oliver hauled in for prostitution last week. She came in after the arrest looking for her sister and the next thing you know, Dov's got a date."

"Really?" Andy giggled. "So how does that even work? 'Sorry about busting your sister. Do you wanna get a drink sometime?'"

"Hey, it's Dov," Traci reminded her. "I sometimes wonder if the whole 'being a cop thing' is just a way to expand his dating pool."

"He does seem to get involved with a lot of people he meets on the job. The guy could use a few boundaries," Andy observed.

"That's the thing. What you and I see as a boundary, Dov sees as an opportunity."

"Okay, so Dov and the sister of the perp . . . . What else have you got?"

"Chris and Denise broke up last weekend," Traci offered.

"I know. He came by yesterday," Andy said. "He seemed bummed out about the breakup, but I think he was also a little relieved that she wasn't seeing someone else."

"Yeah. I guess people just grow apart sometimes—develop other interests. Not every relationship is meant to last. Sucks for Chris, but it's better to find out now than to hang on and make it even harder to let go later."

"Yeah," Andy acknowledged. As her thoughts began to wander to her own relationship she abruptly changed the subject. "What about you? What's new with Traci?"

Traci hesitated. "Welllllll . . . here's something no one else knows." She paused, allowing a sly smile to settle on her face. "I may have a date with a new guy."

"Who?" Andy inquired eagerly, prodding Traci further when she was slow to respond. "Come on, Trace. Who is it?"

"It's Jerry."

"_Detective Barber?_"

"Yeah." Traci nodded and laughed at Andy's stunned expression. "He's been dropping hints about going out for a while, and I finally decided to take him up on it."

"He was one of our instructors at the Academy," Andy breathed.

"It's been a year," Traci noted, "and now he's a colleague."

"Hmmm . . . Detective Barber," Andy said contemplatively, considering the idea of Traci and Jerry together. She decided that it wasn't the strangest pairing ever. If she were being honest with herself, she should have seen it coming; when they worked cases together there was always a steady stream of flirtatious banter flowing between the two of them, and Andy had often noticed that Jerry seemed to have a soft spot for Traci. "When's it happening?"

"No definite plans yet but soon. We're keeping it quiet, though, so don't tell anyone," Traci implored her.

Andy made a zipping motion across her lips and pretended to toss away an imaginary key.

"We can't all be as lucky in love as you," Traci teased her. "The rest of us have to keep at it until we find our own Jeff."

"Whatever works." Andy let out a small laugh. "So you've really got a thing for Jerry?"

"_Yes_," Traci laughed. "Now . . . on to bigger and better things. These cupcakes aren't gonna eat themselves."

A key rattled in the lock and Andy and Traci turned their heads in unison as the door swung open to reveal Jeff. He pushed it closed with his foot and immediately asked, "Did I hear 'cupcakes?'" He tossed his bag down beside the door and headed toward the couch like a bloodhound following a scent.

"Wow. That's a really thin door," Andy remarked, smiling up at him.

In response, he leaned over the back of the couch and kissed the top of her head. "How was your day?" he asked.

"Riveting, as you can see." Andy gestured to the random assortment of clutter surrounding her. "But it's looking up because Traci was just about to ply me with baked goods."

"So I heard. I don't suppose you've got an extra one in that box?" He grinned at Traci, hitting her with the full force of one of his most persuasive smiles.

"Of _course_. You don't think I'd show up here without a cupcake for the doting boyfriend, do you?" she teased him as she passed the box his way.

"Thanks, Trace. You rock." He plucked a cupcake from the box and walked around the couch to the adjacent arm chair. As he sank down into it, he propped up his feet on the coffee table near Andy's and began peeling off the cupcake wrapper. "Oh yeah," he sighed as he took a huge bite of chocolate cupcake. "Soooo good."

"Wow. You're getting pretty cozy over there with that cupcake," Andy laughed.

"Hey. Don't judge me. I spent my day manning the fire extinguisher while a bunch of teenagers blew up stuff in the chemistry lab. A little cupcake will go a long way toward restoring my sanity."

"So your day was kind of blah?" he asked Andy between bites.

"Yep. Same as yesterday. And the day before," she admitted. "But it's okay," she said suddenly, looking over at Traci, "because my focus is on relaxing and getting better so that I can return to the job I love . . . with the people I love . . . in the city I love." She said it like a mantra, hoping that if she repeated the sentiments enough, the next two days might go faster. "And I'd rather be bored than dead," she reminded herself as an afterthought. A mere two weeks before she'd been in an ambulance on her way to the hospital, and as much as she might be complaining about her forced life of leisure, she knew she was lucky to have the opportunity to be lying around on the couch at all.

* * *

Sam tapped his fingers on the steering wheel, desperately needing an outlet for his nervous enthusiasm. One way or another, his op would be finished that night. He was ready to be done, but he reminded himself that he had to remain calm or risk sabotaging the takedown.

He glanced over to the passenger seat of the van, thinking that the guy sitting there really had some rotten luck. His name was Tony, and when he'd climbed into the van with Sam, he'd been going on about how fortunate he was to get a last-minute spot on Davenport's crew. In reality, all he'd really done was land in the middle of a police sting. Tony had been brought into the Tate deal as Rinko's replacement. After the screw-up at the warehouse, Rinko had been too much of a liability, and everyone knew it was only a matter of time before he was put out to pasture. Davenport didn't get to where he was by letting losers like Rinko run around jeopardizing his business plans. So when Rinko "accidentally" stumbled into some bad product a few days after the shooting, no one was surprised.

As Sam drove toward the location where the exchange was taking place, he was thankful that Tony remained relatively quiet. After the initial burst of enthusiasm about being tapped to participant in an illegal weapons deal, the guy seemed okay with maintaining silence in the van. Sam appreciated that because it gave him time to run through the plan in his mind without having to deal with a lot of useless background chatter. As he worked through the details one final time, he took comfort from the knowledge that Boyd's team and ETF would already be in place waiting for Davenport, Tate and their respective entourages to arrive.

Sam allowed himself to enjoy a split second of relief as he thought about how it had all fallen into place at the last second. The closer they'd gotten to the date without having specifics, the more freaked out Boyd had become. Sam worked every angle to get what they needed, but he wasn't having any luck. Davenport preferred to keep the exact location and time to himself until the day of the exchange and although it was a logical precaution for a guy like that to take, it certainly didn't make planning a bust easy. Then, two days before the meeting, things finally started to fall into place when a couple of Tate's guys came to town to babysit the shipment prior to their boss' arrival. They were hanging out at one of the bars Arnie Crapo frequented, and he remembered one of them as Tate's driver from a few weeks before. Ever the opportunist, Arnie sidled up to them at the bar, knowing that anything they said had the potential to be worth something to him. By the time they were several beers down, the guys were mouthing off about having to drive a truckload of supplies to someplace just outside of the city. They even dropped the name of the area where they were going. When Sam met up with Arnie and heard what he had to offer, he wanted to hug the guy. Arnie might be a complete drunk who couldn't get out of his own way, but he definitely recognized valuable information when it landed at his feet.

Boyd's guys had been able to do a simple property search and determine that the same dummy corporation that owned the warehouse where the shooting happened also owned an old manufacturing facility in the area Tate's men had mentioned to Arnie. Boyd immediately dispatched two guys out to watch the property, which gave every appearance of being completely abandoned and far from well-maintained. And that made it the perfect location for an illegal weapons deal that someone wanted to keep under wraps. Positive confirmation of the location finally arrived the day before the meeting in the form of Davenport's two shadows Carl and Theo. They spent a considerable amount of time checking out the property, obviously getting ready for something that was about to take place there. So although it was certainly possible that Davenport was planning to retool his factory and strike up a legitimate business venture, it seemed more probable that he'd sent his goons out to confirm that the place was ready for a rendez-vous with Tate and his men the following day.

"So this is the place," Tony observed needlessly as Sam pulled off of a remote highway and onto Davenport's property. A large factory and several dilapidated outbuildings sat idly in front of them. Sam followed Davenport's instructions and drove the van around behind the factory to another large building with a loading dock and several garage bays on one side. The building looked like it had been the shipping center of whatever operation had been run from the factory in its heyday. Sam drove up to one of the doors and lightly tapped the horn. On cue, the door rose in front of him and he drove into an open space that probably had the capacity to fit several semi-trailers inside at one time. As soon as they cleared the door, it closed behind the van and Sam swallowed nervously, knowing that when he exited the building it would be in one of two ways.

Sam braked behind another van and got out, slamming his door behind him and walking casually around the front of the van to join the other guys who had already arrived. Levy was standing beside the other van with Russ Carney, a small-time drug dealer who served as one of Davenport's frequent go-to guys.

"'Bout time you got here, Bobby," Levy ribbed him. "You drive like my Great Uncle Lou."

"Just appreciating the scenery. It's not every day that we get to go on a field trip," Sam responded nonchalantly.

As they made strained small talk, Sam sensed an excited tension in the air. Of course, he was wound up for entirely different reasons than the other guys. Any anxiety they were feeling was probably owing to the fact that a successful transaction between Davenport and Tate meant they'd all go home with fatter pockets that night. The anticipation of a big payoff if everything went well was more than enough to have the other guys on edge.

Not long after they arrived, another horn honked and Levy raised the garage door. Tito Sykes pulled the third van in behind Sam's. He got out and and ambled over to the group with his frequent sidekick Kenny Streeter in tow. Sam looked at the small collection of guys and thought with satisfaction that he'd be glad to see each and every one of them removed from the streets. It was an added bonus that came along with busting Davenport, and hopefully Tate.

They hadn't been waiting long when they heard car doors slamming outside and someone rapped on the garage door. Levy raised it again to reveal Davenport and his two bulky companions. As they walked through the open door, Sam saw a black SUV similar to Davenport's pull up with a large moving truck trailing behind it.

The truck backed into the building, sliding in alongside the vans while Tate exited the SUV and approached the building with his own watchdogs. Davenport snapped his fingers and motioned for Carl and Theo to follow as he walked briskly toward Tate. While he watched Tate and Davenport shaking hands, Sam smirked, thinking that all of their elaborate precautions really only made them look like overgrown children being escorted to a play date by their parents. As Davenport and Tate moved inside of the building, the garage doors clamped shut behind them.

Sam knew Boyd's guys would have done their best to wire the building for audio surveillance, and if time permitted, there would also be a video feed. He had been able to put a call through to Boyd that morning after Davenport gave them final instructions that included which building they'd be using on the property. He only hoped the team had the opportunity and time to accomplish what needed to be done on such short notice. He looked around the building, noting that whatever they'd done was fairly discreet and not obvious to the naked eye. One way or another, Sam knew the team would make sure they had eyes and ears on the inside so they'd know when to make the arrests.

Sam watched with mounting anxiety as Davenport and Tate engaged in several minutes of posturing and small talk. Outside, he knew Boyd's guys would be lining up behind ETF for the takedown.

And then it began. Davenport went over and hoisted himself up into the truck to check out Tate's offerings, which were packed in large plastic trunks. After opening each trunk and painstakingly inspecting the contents, he climbed down to the ground again and motioned for Theo to approach with a briefcase. As Theo opened it and held it out, Tate flipped carefully through the cash inside before stepping back with a satisfied expression. When Tate nodded and backed off, Davenport made a hand motion and his guys, including Sam, sprang into action, approaching the truck and removing the trunks one by one.

The trunks required two men to carry each one, and as they all strained to muscle them into the vans, Sam couldn't help but wish that Tate's guys had received some lessons in how to pack lightly. It was on his second trip to the van carrying one end of a trunk that he heard the sudden commotion and banging behind him. When he turned to look, the ETF guys were rushing in through two doors on either side of the garage bays. Amidst loud shouts and yells from both sides, a general feeling of panic and chaos ensued as Tate, Davenport and their guys all scrambled in different directions. Tate and two of his people dashed toward a back door that Sam knew would be blocked, and several more guys ran for various windows and doors scattered around the space.

Carl and Theo must have decided the direct approach was the way to go because they whipped out their guns and fired off a couple of shots each as they hid behind Tate's truck with Davenport.

Along with Tony and Levy, Sam immediately dropped to the ground, hoping to avoid any crossfire.

"What are they doing?" Levy wheezed, covering his head with his hands as he cowered near the van. "There's no way any of us are getting out of here alive if they start a gun fight. There's too many cops."

Sam crawled to the back of the van he'd been driving and attempted to take cover underneath its back bumper. He positioned his hand on his gun in case he needed it quickly, but he hoped he wouldn't have to use it. Levy and Tony had chosen the wisest approach—surrender. Sam hoped Carl and Theo could be persuaded to reach that same conclusion or there might be some collateral damage. Sam just wanted to make sure that he didn't end up being the collateral damage. Part of the plan was for him to get hauled in with the others so that no one would immediately know he was the leak, and to do that, he needed to maintain his cover as long as possible. So as shots were exchanged between the police and Carl and Theo, he concealed himself underneath the van and waited for the cops to contain the situation and hopefully come over to arrest "Bobby Farrell."

Someone managed to shoot Theo in the leg, and he stumbled out from behind the truck with a dark red stain on the fabric of his pants. He came out with his hands in the air and dropped his gun to the ground before falling down nearby. Seeing Theo with a bullet in his leg must have caused Carl to conclude that any further resistance was unlikely to yield positive results, because he followed Theo out from behind the truck with a look of resignation on his face, dropping his gun and raising his hands in surrender. He kicked the gun away and waited to be cuffed as several cops rushed toward him.

Sam watched with satisfaction as Boyd's team and ETF took over and one by one, each of the guys was hauled out of the building and tossed unceremoniously into the back of a waiting squad car or police van.

Boyd himself came over and dragged Sam up off of the ground and cuffed him, shoving him around for effect as they exited the building.

"Easy," Sam growled out in warning while putting up a half-hearted struggle against Boyd.

"Shut up," Boyd ordered him, pushing Sam into the back of a waiting squad car. From the car, Sam watched with a strange sense of disbelief as Levy and Davenport were dragged out of the building. Fourteen months spent rubbing elbows with those bottom dwellers, and it was all suddenly over in one afternoon. The whole thing almost seemed too easy. Then again, spending fourteen months of his life as a petty criminal working his way up Davenport's food chain hadn't exactly been easy. Sam knew he'd still have to testify at the guys' trials and that eventually at least some of them were going to figure out that he had been an undercover cop, but that was all down the road. In that moment, he rested his head back against the seat and relaxed, mentally saying a very welcome goodbye to Bobby Farrell.


	5. Chapter 5

**So here's Chapter 5. Chapter 6 will be written from Andy's POV (one day later), so it will give more insight into what she's thinking. **

**Please don't worry too much about Jeff. This is a long story, and Jeff is just a minor bump in the road. That being said, if he took a flying leap in Chapter 5, he wouldn't serve much of a purpose. I think he plans to hang around for a little while (not too long, I promise) and then bow out. Ultimately, we all know where this is going, right? I can assure you it's not a story about how Jeff and Andy tough it out and make their relationship work. :)**

* * *

Black boots landed heavily on the pavement of 15 Division's parking lot. Sam drew in a deep breath and let it out in the form of a sigh. He was back. It had been fourteen months since he walked out of the station into that same parking lot. Now, as he stood outside leaning against his truck he could almost make himself believe nothing had changed. By all appearances, everything looked the same from where he was standing. He knew, however, that once he walked through the doors to the building that would no longer be the case. It was inevitable that much of what had seemed so familiar before would be altered. He'd returned from UC assignments before, and he knew the drill. But this time, something about his return felt different. Sam didn't know what yet, but it was there.

As much as he knew he should go in and start getting ready for Parade, he couldn't make his feet take those crucial steps. He just wanted to bask in the comfortable feeling of the familiar for a few minutes longer. That wasn't going to happen, though. The time for change had come, and as a tiny subcompact zipped into a parking spot near the building and two chattering females hopped out and headed into the station, he watched them with great interest. One of them was completely unfamiliar to him, but the other one . . . he definitely knew her. Andy McNally. The last time he'd seen her she'd been asleep in a hospital bed. Even then she looked beautiful, but now, she was full of life and vitality and Sam couldn't look away. Having her there was certainly different, but it was a "different" that felt good. He wasn't sure how he knew that, but as he shoved himself off of the truck and started moving toward the building, he felt an inexplicable warmth, and he wanted more of it.

Sam pulled open the doors with force and headed straight for the locker room, smiling politely in passing as a few people in the hallway acknowledged him and welcomed him back. He had three immediate goals: locker, uniform and Parade. He wanted to see her again and he knew she'd be there.

When he entered the locker room and saw Oliver rummaging around in the locker adjacent to his, he exhaled slowly and tried not to look frustrated. As happy as he was to see his longtime friend, he knew that it meant he wouldn't be fast-tracking it to Parade like he'd hoped. Already in uniform, Oliver had his back toward Sam, seemingly rearranging the contents of his locker. Considering that the last time Oliver cleaned out his locker was never and it seemed unlikely that he had suddenly summoned the motivation to rid himself of a decade's worth of clutter, Sam could only assume that his friend was hanging around the locker room waiting for him to show up. Oliver had seen him return from enough UC assignments to know that the transition wasn't always the smoothest, and Sam suspected that Oliver probably wanted to ensure that a friendly face greeted him when he walked back into 15 after being away for so long.

"When you finish with yours, maybe you could work on organizing mine," Sam suggested as he approached the lockers. "It could use a little sprucing up. Maybe some curtains, a nice plant . . . ."

"Sammy," Oliver greeted him cheerfully as he spun around and enveloped Sam in a massive man hug. "Good to have you back, Brother."

"Good to be back," Sam clapped Oliver on the back, swinging past him to open his locker and deposit his bag on the bench in front of it.

"Yeah, I doubt that," Oliver chuckled as he straddled the bench and looked up at Sam. "I'd be willing to bet you're not exactly dying to slide back into the uniform after fourteen months away from this place."

"Well, that's a bet you would lose," Sam informed him as he pulled out a clean T-shirt from his bag and started changing.

"Not possible," Oliver insisted. "I've seen you come back from a lot of assignments over the years and it's always the same."

"Not this time." Sam laughed lightly, sliding the T-shirt over his head and tossing the shirt he'd been wearing into his locker.

"You do seem unusually eager to get back out there," Oliver observed skeptically. "Normally the Sam who walks in here after an op is a pretty grouchy guy who's not exactly excited to get back out there. Is everything okay?"

Pausing briefly, Sam looked down at Oliver, acknowledging that he owed him more than a dismissive assurance that everything was fine. "Oliver, it's good. I'm good. I'd let you know if something weren't right."

"No you wouldn't."

"Okay, I probably wouldn't," Sam confirmed with a nod. "But you'd still know. And I'm telling you I'm ready to get back out there. I have a good feeling about today."

"A good feeling," Oliver repeated warily. "That doesn't sound like you."

"A lot can change in fourteen months," Sam said as he pulled on his uniform pants and looked in his locker for a belt.

"So you're telling me that fourteen months undercover gave you a fresh outlook? What were you doing? Running a sting at a daycare center?"

"Funny," Sam responded dryly as he buttoned up his uniform shirt. "So tell me about our most recent class of rookies. What's waiting for me when we get out on patrol today?"

Oliver stood up in front of his locker and slammed the door, any interest in cleaning it up apparently forgotten. "They're actually not bad. And they're not quite as green as when they started a year ago, so you're welcome for that, Brother. Let's see . . . there's Epstein. Kid has a knack for filling a comfortable silence with an endless stream of trivial facts and observations."

When Sam groaned, Oliver quickly added, "I've gotta tell you, though, he's growing on me."

"Remind me to stay away from that one as much as possible. I try to avoid things that grow on me."

"So then you've got Peck. You know, daughter of the Superintendent. Both parents are white shirts. She walks around like she has something to prove. My take on her is that she's trying to crawl out from beneath the shadows cast by her parents."

Sam nodded absently as he pulled some toiletries from his bag and arranged them in his locker, wishing he could thumb forward twenty pages or so in Oliver's synopsis. In what Sam considered an impressive show of patience, he listened politely as Oliver provided rather lengthy descriptions of Diaz and Nash when he really just wanted to find out more about McNally.

"And then you have Tommy McNally's kid," Oliver offered up, drawing Sam's full attention as if he were dangling a bag of gold coins in front of his face. "You know, homicide detective . . . retired from the force a few years back . . . ."

"Yeah, I remember him." Sam nodded in an attempt to move things along. "So his kid is one of the new rookies?"

"Yep. Andy McNally. She's really something," Oliver remarked with a proud smile. "Heart of gold. Excellent people skills. Took a bullet - actually two, to be exact - a few weeks ago. She's been back on light duty for a few days, but she should be returning to the regular rotation today if her doc signed off on it."

"What happened? How'd she get shot?" Sam asked casually, curious to see what information was circulating around the station and what McNally herself might have remembered from the shooting. He shut his locker and turned toward Oliver, motioning for him to lead the way toward the door.

"She and Diaz answered a call to check out what they thought was an abandoned warehouse. Turns out, it wasn't so empty, and she ran across a handful of guys who were knee deep in something shady. One of them pulled out a gun and shot her. By the time Diaz got there, the shooter and his buddies were running away." Oliver eyed Sam as he continued, "The interesting thing is that someone had already used her radio to call it in when Diaz got to her. Kind of weird, but hey, she must've stumbled onto a criminal with a conscience," Oliver explained with a shrug as they exited the locker room.

"Huh," was the only response Sam could manage. He looked over at Oliver suspiciously, trying to get a read on whether his friend suspected his involvement in the shooting. When he came up empty-handed, Sam realized either Oliver really knew nothing or he had developed a better poker face during the past fourteen months.

"Not a lot of information surfaced after the shooting," Oliver persisted. "Guns and Gangs stepped in and took over the investigation. The assumption around here is that it was tied up with one of their ops." Oliver shot Sam a loaded look, pretty much confirming that he did, in fact, suspect Sam might have been involved in the shooting.

"Clearly, you think you know something, Oliver," Sam said evenly, fixing his eyes on a point straight ahead of them as they walked.

"Not sure what you mean," Oliver claimed in a tone that suggested just the opposite. Thankfully, he let the subject drop, though, as they walked into the Parade Room.

Eager to avoid any more of Oliver's insinuations regarding the shooting, Sam stepped to his right and leaned against the back wall while Oliver continued toward a seat in the middle row. Sam folded his arms across his chest and surveyed the room and its occupants, nodding at several officers in the back row who turned around to welcome him back. Out of the corner of his eye he saw someone enter the room and stop just inside the doorway. Slowly turning his head to the left, he found Noelle, one of the cops he trained with at the Academy, looking him over with a saucy grin on her face. Sidling up next to him, she leaned against the wall and bumped her shoulder against his. "So, Sammy's back at 15 . . . . How long until you run out on us this time? One week or two?"

"Noelle . . . how's 15's finest female copper?" he asked with a smug smile.

"Finest _female_? I see you've still got your sense of humor," she laughed. "You didn't answer my question. Are you in and out this time or sticking around for a while?"

"Don't know yet. I'm keeping my options open," he responded coolly as his eyes involuntarily locked onto a certain fresh-faced brunette who had just walked into the room. She was talking animatedly to her friend from the parking lot. As they made their way to some seats in the front row, a tall guy with dark hair sidetracked her with a question. Either the question or the answer seemed to please her because she grinned widely. In response, Sam's heart hammered in his chest, and he told himself he really needed to calm down. He was entirely too excited about this rookie—especially because he'd never even spoken to her directly. He briefly hoped that maybe something about her voice or her laugh might be off-putting. Then, he heard her laugh at something the guy said and he realized that there was nothing wrong with the laugh either. If anything, it drew him in even more.

"Stop drooling over the rooks," Noelle teased him, waving her hand through his line of sight to draw his attention back to her.

Sam returned his gaze to Noelle quickly, working overtime to evoke an expression of disinterest. "Tommy McNally's kid, right?" he noted, ignoring Noelle's smirk.

"Yep. Good cop. A little over-eager, but aren't they all?"

Sam watched McNally take the last open seat in the front row just as the Staff Sergeant came in to start Parade. Leaning over to Noelle, he whispered, "So Frank's running the show now."

Noelle nodded, silencing him with a look as Frank Best, the newly-minted Staff Sergeant, turned his attention to the back of the room and let his eyes fall on Sam.

"All right, people." He paused for a few seconds, waiting for silence, before continuing. "We want to welcome back Officer Sam Swarek. As many of you know, he's been out on a long-term undercover assignment that just came to a _very_ successful conclusion," Frank announced proudly as the room erupted into a sea of whistles and catcalls. "Hopefully, we'll be able to keep him at 15 for a while . . . ."

For the most part, Frank's speech was merely background noise to Sam as he observed McNally intently from the back of the room. He wanted to see her reaction to Frank's shout-out. He was curious as to whether she'd recognize him from the warehouse and what her reaction might be - even if she ultimately responded to him with hostility. He got his answer when she turned her head in his direction, locking eyes with him for several seconds. When her expression remained blank and only mildly interested, any expectations he had took a nosedive. The total lack of recognition and the bland response mystified him; he simply couldn't accept that as preoccupied as he was with her, she didn't even know who he was.

After welcoming him back, Frank wrapped up his spiel quickly, admonishing them all to be safe as he sent them out onto the streets. Sam stepped over to the assignment board and scanned it to see if he was partnered with anyone. When he saw Epstein's name beside his and McNally's name beside Oliver's, he stifled a groan. Slipping out into the hallway, his eyes darted from person to person until they landed on Oliver, who was standing nearby trading jabs with a fellow officer.

As Sam approached them, the other officer must have sensed an urgency in Sam's stride and demeanor because he mumbled, "See ya later," to Oliver and headed down the hallway toward the parking lot.

Sam lowered his voice as he leaned toward Oliver. "Switch with me, man. It's my first shift back and I really can't take a lot of mindless chitchat from Epstein."

"So you want McNally instead?" Oliver laughed. "If you're looking for strained silence, maybe you should be wheeling and dealing to get Peck in the car with you."

"Just switch with me, Oliver. Please," Sam said through gritted teeth. He was actually feeling slightly desperate but thought he did a good job of coming across as calm and disinterested.

Rubbing his chin slyly, Oliver asked, "What's in it for me?"

"So you can be bought. Good to know. Drinks on me at the Penny after shift."

"Throw in an appetizer and we just might have a deal," Oliver bargained.

"Done." Sam said flatly.

"I would've settled for just the drinks," Oliver told him with a chuckle.

"I would've thrown in an entrée," Sam informed him smugly.

As Sam saw Andy exit the Parade Room and head toward them his heart rate accelerated and he chided himself for acting like a teenager with a crush.

"Looks like it's you and me today, Oliver." Andy smiled at Oliver, shifting her eyes between him and Sam uncertainly.

"Nope," Oliver piped up quickly. "Just a misprint. You're with Sammy today."

"Oh. Okay," she said simply, turning her attention to Sam.

When she focused the full power of her gaze on him, Sam found himself speechless. He felt ridiculous. She'd been staring at Oliver and he seemed to come out of it just fine, so why was she having this effect on him?

"I'm Andy McNally," she introduced herself with a warm smile.

When she raked her eyes across his face, Sam felt completely exposed. He knew he needed to speak, but his mind was on overload.

"Well, have fun, you two," Oliver said with an amused expression as he tapped Sam lightly on the back and moved past him down the hallway to join Epstein.

After what felt like fifteen minutes but had probably only been fifteen seconds, she cleared her throat and asked, "Should we go?"

"Um, yeah. Let's go," he agreed quickly, motioning for her to lead. Smiling at him uncertainly, she started walking toward the lot, and he fell into step beside her, cutting his eyes in her direction as they exited the building.

Sam drove out of the lot with silence hanging heavily between. He didn't know what to say to her to get her talking, but he desperately wanted to open the flow of communication. He needed to know what was going on in her head, and her silence was giving him nothing to go on. He absolutely refused to resort to weather-related small talk. If that happened, he would seriously question his sanity. Sam Swarek did not allow women to make him feel befuddled. He certainly never had to work this hard when it came to talking to the opposite sex. But there she sat, staring out the passenger window thinking who knew what while he was performing mental gymnastics on his side of the car in an attempt to draw her out.

"It looks like it might rain," he mumbled and immediately wanted to pull over and let her out of the car so that he could drive himself into a ditch. She turned and offered him a small smile before returning her gaze to the window.

"I remember you," she finally said, driving an ice pick into the silence that had filled the car since they left the station.

As her words sliced through the air, Sam froze. Although his eyes remained focused on the road, she had his full attention with her on the other side of the car.

"You were there when I got shot," she clarified, turning away from the window to look at him.

Sam quickly maneuvered the car into a parking spot on the side of the street, letting his eyes linger on the steering wheel for fear that if he actually looked at her he might see anger, disgust or something even worse. His hands gripped the wheel tightly as he sighed, "I didn't think you remembered."

"Of course I remember," she affirmed with conviction, and something in her tone compelled him to glance her way. When he did, she looked him squarely in the eyes, and he saw understanding, acceptance and even a little levity, instead of the angry emotions he'd been expecting. "Seeing you in Parade . . . well, it was just sort of a surprise, you know?" She laughed nervously. "Suddenly, the pieces started coming together. I was still trying to work it all out in my brain when we met up in the hallway, and honestly, I didn't know what to say to you."

"I guess there isn't a lot of precedent for this type of thing."

"So I guess the rumors are true about the shooting being mixed up with an ongoing Guns and Gangs investigation."

"Yeah," he admitted. "We were expecting a big shipment, and you walked in while we were working out some of the details. I'm really sorry you got hurt. I should've been able to stop it from happening. I've been over and over it in my head. If I'd been quicker . . . ."

"Stop," Andy said firmly as if she knew exactly what he was thinking. "There was nothing you could've done. You didn't know I was coming in there. You couldn't control that guy. It all happened too fast. It was beyond your control." She touched his arm gently. There was a softness in her eyes that Sam found comforting.

"You're not mad?" he asked curiously.

"Why would I be mad? You were doing your job. I was doing my job. Like I said, there was nothing you could have done, Sam." Her hand was still on his arm, and it felt good. And he liked hearing her say his name.

"Thanks for saying that," he said, letting his head drop back against the headrest.

"No problem." She let her hand fall and seemed to be winding up for a second wave of conversation. "You know, apparently _someone_ used my radio to call it in after I went down."

"Really?" he asked, feigning ignorance.

"Yep. Afterwards, I just kept thinking, who would know to do that but a cop? And why would any criminal stop running away long enough to call in 'officer down?'"

Sam let out a low laugh as she grinned at him, mirroring his position with her head back against the headrest of her seat. Sitting in the car with her felt very right to him, and he didn't want to lose that feeling. He sighed and reluctantly pulled the car back out onto the street, knowing they needed to get back to work.

"I doubt anyone told you, but the guy who shot you is dead," Sam offered as he drove. "His Boss, Davenport, got rid of him after he shot you. The guy was too much of a liability. Joe Rinko," he uttered with contempt. "He was a total wreck of a human being. Always strung out on something. That's why he freaked out when you found us in the warehouse."

"I kind of figured. I mean, it was pretty obvious he was high on something," she reflected with a small smile. "Thanks for telling me that."

"I just thought you should know," he responded quietly. "If Davenport hadn't taken care of him he would have been hauled in during the bust and then charged for the shooting, too. It wasn't just going to go away."

"I know. It makes sense now," she assured him. "So how long were you under?"

"Fourteen months."

"Does it feel weird to be back?"

"Usually it does but not today, for whatever reason. I'm kind of enjoying it this time," he told her, glancing her way.

* * *

"Okay, so what was your favorite call of the day?" Andy asked Sam pointedly as they headed back to the station near the end of shift.

"Hmmm . . . I gotta go with guy whose wife locked him out of the house in his underwear," Sam said with a laugh.

"Were those hearts on his boxers?"

"I don't know, McNally. I tried not to look too closely."

"Sam, those hearts—or whatever they were—were pretty hard to miss. You could've seen them from across the street."

"In situations like those, I try not to look below the belt," he informed her sagely.

"Okay, okay, fine. I'm putting hearts in the report, though. I think _my_ favorite was the traffic stop." She didn't need to specify which stop. Although they had pulled over several cars during the course of the day, he knew exactly which one she had on her mind.

Sam groaned and rolled his eyes. "Can we just forget it happened?"

"Not a chance," she laughed. "Those ladies were pretty taken with you. I thought they were gonna drag you into the back of their van and have their way with you right there."

"You know, it's actually not that surprising. Women of all ages tend to find me irresistible. Ethel even invited me to Bingo this weekend."

"How am I gonna write that in the report? Pulled over van full of elderly women for driving too slowly. Subjects then proceeded to ogle Officer Swarek and invite him into said van for an afternoon delight . . ." she posited.

"Maybe we could just keep that last part between the two of us," Sam suggested.

"All right," she teased him, "but it'll cost you. I mean, they actually used the term 'afternoon delight.' Sitting on information like that is like finding buried treasure and not spending it."

"Name your price, McNally," Sam said gruffly. He didn't even want to think about what Oliver or Jerry would do with the information.

"I guess I'll take it easy on you because it's your first day back. How about you buy me a drink at the Penny later? Wait, no, not tonight. Tomorrow after shift?"

"Easiest deal I ever made. Done," he responded immediately, liking the opening she'd just given him. An opening to what, he wasn't sure, but he was happy for the opportunity it presented. And it also meant Oliver and Jerry wouldn't find out about him getting propositioned by a minivan full of elderly perps on their way home from a craft fair.

* * *

When they got back to the station, Sam changed at lightning speed and took up position across from the women's locker room, leaning against the wall casually as he waited for Andy to come out. He knew she rode in with Nash that morning. If she had a car, it wasn't with her at the station, so he assumed she might need a ride home. He also knew Oliver would be waiting for him at the Penny, but it wouldn't take long to drop off McNally and double back.

When she came out of the locker room and stopped in front of him, tilting her head in happy confusion, he licked his lips and grinned at her.

"Are you waiting for me?" she demanded with mock seriousness.

"Thought you might need a ride somewhere," he told her as he pushed himself off of the wall.

He thought he saw a flicker of disappointment cross her face when she answered him, "Thanks. I wish I could. I'm all set, though. My, um—I already have a ride."

He fell into step beside her as she walked out of the building. When they reached the parking lot, she stopped and faced him directly. "Don't forget. You owe me a drink," she reminded him before turning and walking toward a blue sedan that was waiting for her nearby.

"A deal's a deal," he acknowledged.

Just before she opened the car door she called back to him. "Hey Sam!" His eyebrows shot up in answer as she said, "I'll see you tomorrow. I had fun today."

The last image Sam saw of her before she got in the car was a heart-stopping grin. For hours afterward he would regret that he continued to watch her because the image that greeted him next was of the driver leaning across the car to kiss her quickly before pulling out of the lot. Sam's heart plummeted to his knees and he stood completely still. His feet refused to carry him the rest of the way to his truck. He wanted to rewind to a few minutes before and carry that feeling home with him. It was too late, though. He'd seen her with the other guy and now he knew she was taken. Of course she had a boyfriend. A girl like that would never be single, he told himself.

Sam wondered why he was so wound up and what it all meant. He quickly reminded himself that he had only really known her for one day. _One day_. It was entirely too soon to be worked up simply because a girl he hardly knew was dating someone else. Still, he couldn't shake the feeling of disappointment as he forced his feet to start moving toward his truck.


	6. Chapter 6

**The ending on that last chapter was a bit of a downer. Sorry about that. It just felt like the right place for a chapter break. Thank you, everyone, for being so cool about it.  
**

**A word of warning . . . according to the word counter on here, this is one of the longest chapters.**

* * *

"You're up early," Jeff noted as he breezed out of the bedroom en route to the kitchen, pausing at the bar stool where Andy was sitting long enough to plant a kiss on top of her head and swipe an apple from a nearby fruit bowl. She looked up at him and quickly plastered on a smile. When she glanced at the bowl of soggy cereal and the unopened newspaper on the counter in front of her, she realized she had very little to show for her early morning other than a large chunk of time spent staring at an uninteresting ladybug magnet on the refrigerator.

The companion scents of soap and aftershave drifted around Jeff, leading Andy to conclude that he was fresh out of a shower and forcing her to admit that she hadn't even known he was awake. He hoisted himself up onto the kitchen island with ease and dangled his legs beside her. "It's a little early in the morning to be so deep in thought," he observed casually.

"I've just got a few things on my mind," she muttered, devoting her attention to spooning large bites of water-logged cereal into her mouth in an attempt to discourage him from asking more about what those things might be.

"What time did you come to bed last night?" Jeff asked as he munched on his apple.

"Not sure," she answered vaguely, trying not to dribble milk down her chin. She'd actually slept on the couch, but apparently, he didn't know that, and she didn't feel like pointing it out to him. "I was having trouble shutting down my brain for the night, and I didn't want to keep you awake by tossing and turning."

"That seems unlikely. You always tell me I sleep like a bear."

"You do," she agreed, producing a laugh that she hoped would diffuse any concerns he might have about her present state of preoccupation.

He glanced at his watch and slid down off the counter. "I need to get going. Doesn't look too good for the teacher to show up late for class." Pausing to look at her, he added, "You know, those things that are on your mind? You'll figure them out. You always do."

As Jeff rushed around the kitchen, grabbing a travel mug full of coffee and throwing some leftover Chinese food into his lunch bag, Andy couldn't help but notice how at ease he was in her world. He had his own apartment, but they had been together for such a long time that he treated hers like it was his own, too. She didn't doubt that it was the same way when she stayed over at his place. They were very comfortable in each other's lives. From the beginning, everything about the relationship had always been so easy. They usually agreed on things and never had real fights. She knew there was nothing wrong with that, but for the first time, she wondered if their sort of bland existence as a couple might not be the right fit for her. Did they genuinely enjoy each other? Did they challenge each other? Had they ever? Or were they just two people brought together who fell into a relationship and didn't have time to think about whether they were a good fit? Although she'd had doubts about them off and on during the three years that they'd been a couple, this was the first time she really allowed herself to consider that their relationship might not be right for either of them, and that thought scared her.

Sliding his bag onto his shoulder, Jeff walked over and gave Andy a quick peck on the lips in between bites of her cereal. He glanced back at her as he hurried toward the door. "I've got some parent-teacher meetings tonight at school, so I'll probably stay at my place if it's late when we finish up."

"Have a good day," she called just before the door smacked shut behind him.

Andy unfolded the newspaper and started skimming the front page only to find her thoughts trailing off again. She admitted to herself that she was feeling guilty for not being completely upfront with Jeff about what had her so preoccupied. She and Jeff had always been honest and open with each other. But how could she tell him what was on her mind? How could she tell him she was thinking about another guy? Even worse was that it was a guy she'd just met. She had three years of history with Jeff and after one day with Sam, he was all she could think about. She didn't even really know him. Sighing, she accepted that the only thing she did know with any certainty was that in spite of her commitment to Jeff and their relationship, she felt an irresistible pull to get to know Sam better.

* * *

Later that day, Andy stood at the back of the room after Parade checking out the day's riding assignments. She scrunched up her face in displeasure when she saw that she was partnered with Noelle. Noelle was great, but Andy had hoped to see someone else's name on the board beside hers.

As Traci walked by on her way out the door, Andy yanked her back into the room and towed her over to an empty corner. "Switch partners with me," she whispered urgently.

"What?" Traci asked in confusion. "I don't think we can do that," she responded cautiously, scanning the room as if she were checking to see whether someone might have overheard.

"How do you know? We've never tried it," Andy hissed loudly.

"Sounds like someone has a crush on the new guy," Traci teased her.

"He's not new. He's just been gone for a while."

"Sooo not the point and you know it," Traci laughed.

Neither confirming nor denying Traci's accusation, Andy begged, "Just trade with me, okay? Please? You take Noelle. I get Swarek."

"Seriously, Andy. Do you have a thing for him?"

When Andy's only response was a pleading expression, Traci asked the obvious question. "What about Jeff?"

"This has nothing to do with Jeff," she said quickly. "We're talking about a work partnership. Sam and I work well together—or at least we did yesterday. Come on, Trace. Just this once. I'll sign on for two Saturday nights of babysitting with Leo."

"Two Saturday nights, huh?" Traci narrowed her eyes skeptically as she considered Andy's proposal. Finally, she relented. "Okay. I'll do it. But don't think I believe a word of anything you just said—except for the part about the babysitting."

"Thank you, thank you, thank you," Andy chanted, looking relieved.

"Nash!" Sam boomed from the doorway, startling them both. "If you're done chitchatting with McNally, maybe you'd like to join me for some police work."

"Um," Traci stammered, looking over at him anxiously. "Actually, I was hoping to switch with Andy and ride with Noelle today. I wanted to get her take on, um, being a female cop in a field that's been traditionally dominated by men."

"Suit yourself. McNally, let's go," he barked gruffly and disappeared from the doorway.

"He's in a great mood. Maybe I should be the one thanking _you_," Traci mumbled.

Andy muttered another hasty "thank you" and slipped out of the room. She managed to catch up with Sam in the parking lot, falling into step beside him in spite of the relentless pace he was setting as he stomped toward the cruiser. When he barely acknowledged her, she touched his shoulder lightly, swinging around in front of him to get his attention. "Hey, is everything okay?" she asked, wrinkling her brow in concern.

"Why wouldn't it be?" he answered a bit too breezily, and Andy knew something was wrong.

"Do you want me to switch back with Traci? Are you mad that I traded with her?"

"No, McNally. It's fine. Get in the car," he grumbled, maneuvering around her and opening the driver's door. When she didn't immediately follow his instructions, he reiterated what he'd just said in a clipped tone, "Let's go."

Completely baffled by the change in his behavior since the prior day, she did as he asked and climbed into the passenger seat.

For some time, neither of them spoke as they drove around their assigned area. Sam seemed completely comfortable with the awkward silence, but Andy felt fidgety and anxious. It was making her crazy that he wouldn't talk to her. Things had been so great with them the day before, and she wanted that back again. Her mind was on overdrive, trying to produce a plausible reason for the abrupt change.

When thirty minutes passed with no conversation and no calls, she finally broke the silence. "Are you sure everything's okay?"

"Yep."

"Did I do something wrong?" She dug deeper, trying to pull anything she could out of him.

"Not a thing," he responded dismissively. "Just enjoying being alone with the thoughts in my head."

Scowling at the obvious sarcasm, Andy huffed, "While you're in there, maybe you could tell the guy who was partnered with me yesterday that he was a lot more fun to be around." She folded her arms across her chest stubbornly and turned her head to look out the window.

Sam made no audible response, but his expression softened noticeably. As he cut his eyes in her direction, a reluctant smile emerged on his lips. When he spoke up suddenly, it took Andy by surprise. "So, the guy who picked you up last night . . . I'm guessing boyfriend?"

She turned her head slowly toward him, looking confused. She wanted him to talk to her, but she hadn't been expecting that. "Yeah. Jeff," she confirmed, trying to think of ways to steer the conversation onto other topics.

"Hmph," was Sam's only response. Then, when Andy offered up nothing else, he reminded her, "You wanted to talk. Now I'm trying to make conversation and you're clamming up." He chuckled to himself, no doubt appreciating the obvious irony.

"I'm not clamming up," she insisted. "There's not much to say. We've been together for three years. We met in college through some friends and started dating. End of story."

"Plans for the future?"

"Sure. I guess. I mean, we don't talk about it much. We're both new to our careers and pretty focused on our jobs. We don't even live together, so that would probably be the logical next step, but it hasn't really come up."

"Let me get this straight. You've been with the guy for three years and you're not living together, you're not engaged and you're not married . . . ." Sam clarified, trailing off.

"No to all three," she confirmed, trying not to sound as defensive as she was starting to feel. "What's with all the interest in my personal life anyway?"

"Just trying to figure you out, McNally. It's all a part of the puzzle."

"How about you?" she asked, turning the tables on him. "Any ladies in your life?"

"You don't tend to do a lot of dating when you're undercover."

"Do you mean you haven't been on a date for fourteen months?" she asked with a stunned expression.

"When your days and nights are spent in the company of thugs and low-lifes it tends to limit your social sphere," he intoned as if he were giving a lecture entitled Socializing and the Undercover Cop.

'Wow. Fourteen months," she mused. When he offered nothing more, Andy thought it best to change the subject. "So how are you adjusting to being back?"

He glanced over at her, and a wicked glint appeared in his eyes. "I can't say I've had much time to think about it. I don't know if you've heard, but I've been riding around with an overly-chatty rookie for the past two days."

"Ha ha. You're too funny," she said with a grin as the dispatcher notified them of a fight at a pizza restaurant a few blocks away. They both grabbed for the radio and their hands brushed against each other, lingering for several seconds before Sam backed off and let her have it. Andy knew she was blushing as she said, "This is 1519. We're on our way."

"Ernesto's Pizza," Andy sighed. "Man, I love that place. Their Hawaiian pizza is the best."

"Hawaiian?" Sam asked with a hint of scorn in his voice.

"Yeah. What's wrong with Hawaiian?"

"Ham and pineapple, right? No thank you," he said with conviction. "Fruit does not belong on pizza."

"Says who?" she questioned him.

"Says me," he informed her as they pulled up in front of the pizza place.

A teenage girl in a waitress' apron ran out to meet them as they approached the entrance. Her fingernails were painted blue to match the streak in her otherwise dark hair, and she was quite frantic as she explained, "I'm the one who called. It's Ernesto and Jesse. They were fighting in the kitchen. A lot of yelling and banging around. Then, just after I called you, it got really quiet. I mean, like scary quiet. I was afraid to go back there to check on them."

"It's okay. You did the right thing by calling," Andy assured the girl as she rubbed her back. "What's your name?"

"Stella," she answered automatically.

"Stella, are there any other people in the restaurant besides the two of them?" Sam asked.

"No. We're closed right now. Getting ready for the dinner shift."

"Okay, good," Andy said gently. "Can you tell us who Jesse is?"

"A kid who works here as a cook. He's sixteen. He's late a lot. After last time, Ernesto warned him not to let it happen again. So when he came in twenty minutes late today, Ernesto said he had to let him go. Jesse followed him back into the kitchen, begging for another chance and telling him how he needs this job. Then they started yelling . . . ."

"Stella, will you be okay out here while my partner and I go in and check it out?" Sam asked.

"Yeah. Sure," she agreed readily. Andy squeezed Stella's shoulder and followed Sam into the restaurant.

Stella was right. The kitchen was eerily quiet. Either Ernesto and Jesse had ducked out of a back door or they were still back there and something was wrong.

"Do you think they talked it out and everything's fine?" Andy whispered hopefully.

"No clue." They walked through the dining area toward a swinging door that appeared to lead to the kitchen. Nudging it open with his foot, Sam said, "Police. Is everything okay back there?"

"_The police? No, no, no, no_," came a high-pitched voice on the verge of tears.

"We're coming in. We just want to talk," Sam said calmly as he edged open the door and motioned for Andy to stay behind him.

Andy followed Sam into the kitchen, and the door swung closed at their backs. A thin teenage boy stood with his back to Sam and Andy, bouncing almost imperceptibly on the balls of his feet. In front of him, a large, balding man in an apron was standing completely still as he leaned back against a metal counter. Neither Jesse nor Ernesto was moving, and as Andy slid to the left to get a better view, she saw why. Jesse was holding a large kitchen knife mere inches from Ernesto's abdomen.

"Kid, I told you this was a mistake. Now the cops are here," Ernesto muttered. His voice was strained, and Andy could see beads of sweat collecting on his forehead.

"Stay where you are," Jesse ordered Sam and Andy without turning around, but there was very little bite to his statement. It was apparent to Andy and probably everyone else in the room that the kid was terrified.

"Okay. We're not moving," Andy said evenly, looking over at Sam. "He has a knife," she whispered.

"Try to keep them both calm while I call for backup. I'll be right on the other side of the door if you need me," Sam told her quietly as he backed out of the kitchen.

"Jesse, right?" Andy asked the boy.

"Who told you that?" he responded defensively.

"Stella did. She was worried about you, so she called us," Andy told him. "Jesse, I'm Officer McNally, and I'm here with my partner Officer Swarek. I know you don't want to hurt Ernesto. We need you to put down the knife to make sure that doesn't happen."

"You're trying to trick me. As soon as I do that, you'll arrest me. I can't go to jail. All I want is my job back. I didn't mean to be late again. I was hanging out with some kids after school, and I just lost track of time. I need this job," he explained desperately. Andy briefly wondered how the kid had come to the conclusion that holding his boss at knife point was an effective means of gaining job security. She could only assume that the stress of the situation must be leading the kid to believe that Ernesto would change his mind if he held him there long enough.

"I'm sure you didn't mean to be late. It happens to all of us at one time or another," Andy commiserated.

"It's just that I have to keep this job. It's just me and my Dad, and we need the money."

As Sam slid back in the door behind Andy, he rested a hand on her shoulder. She sighed in relief, knowing that he was back.

"Look, he's a good kid," Ernesto spoke up anxiously. "Things just got out of control. Don't hurt him."

Keeping his voice level, Sam said, "Listen, Jesse. Right now, it's just the four of us. But soon, there'll be a lot more police officers here. It's better for everyone if you put down the knife now."

"Jesse, you don't want to hurt Ernesto," Andy added. "What you've done so far is bad, but if you go any further, things will get much worse. Not only for you but also for your Dad."

"I love my Dad. I don't want to hurt him. He's out of work, and this job is the only money we've got coming in. I didn't mean for this to happen. I just—I _need_ this job," he repeated nervously.

"Is it just you and your Dad?" Andy asked, hoping to identify some common ground between the two of them that she could use to try and talk the knife out of his hand.

"Yeah. It's just me and him ever since my Mom died. He's been trying so hard to find a job, but there's nothing out there. Now I've made things worse," Jesse said, choking back a sob.

"I was raised by a single Dad, too," Andy began tentatively, trying to disguise the tremor in her voice. She didn't want to say the wrong thing and push the kid into using the knife. "It was just the two of us. And let me tell you something about your Dad. If he loves you the way mine loves me—and it sounds like he does—he'll understand what happened. He'll know you were doing the best you could. You owe it to him not to make this situation worse. People find themselves in bad situations all the time. I'm sure your Dad knows that. He'll understand, and he'll want to know that you made the right choice when you found yourself in a tough spot. The best thing you can do for him now is to put down that knife." Andy knew it was only a matter of minutes before other squad cars pulled up outside. And it also seemed likely that ETF would show up at some point. When that happened, she worried that the situation would escalate and Ernesto's position would become more precarious. "Come on, Jesse," she urged. "Just put down the knife."

When Jesse remained quiet, Andy drew in several calming breaths and waited, wondering what else she could say to persuade him to release Ernesto. Suddenly, he turned around and held out the knife limply in Andy's direction, causing her to sigh in relief. Andy walked over to him slowly and wrapped her fingers around the handle, gently urging him to release it as he stood in front of her with his head hanging low. Ernesto slid out from behind them, and she led Jesse toward the door with her hand on his shoulder. Stopping in front of Sam, she produced a shaky smile as a look passed between them that was not unlike the one they shared the day she was shot.

When they got back to the station they stayed with Jesse in one of the witness rooms until his Dad showed up and then left them alone to wait for their lawyer.

"What'll happen to him?" Andy asked as the door to the room shut behind them and they were left alone in the hallway.

"I don't know," he admitted. "Whatever it is, it'll be minor compared to what would've happened if you hadn't talked him into giving up that knife. You probably saved the kid's future—not to mention the restaurant owner's life."

"I was terrified," she admitted. "I was so afraid the situation was going to escalate and someone—Jesse or Ernesto—would end up getting hurt."

"Well, it didn't. And you did a good job. Not everyone would have been able to keep it together in a situation like that," he told her as they walked toward their desks to start processing the paperwork. "That was some quick thinking, bringing up the stuff about your Dad."

Before they could sit down, Frank stuck his head out of his office and yelled down at them. "Swarek! McNally! My office now!"

Andy looked at Sam for an explanation, but he just shrugged and urged her up the stairs toward Frank's office. Inside, Frank was standing on the other side of his desk with his hands planted firmly on the desktop, looking furious as they filed in and stood in front of him. "It's come to my attention that the two of you think you know more than I do about staffing this place," Frank stated in a steely tone.

"Sir?" Andy asked in confusion.

Ignoring her, Frank continued in a tone that was sharp and penetrating. "When I put up a riding assignment, I want to see you in the car with that person. You don't get to pick and choose your partner for the day."

Andy closed her eyes briefly as it dawned on her that this was her fault. She liked knowing that Sam was there standing beside her and that he had her back, but she felt guilty for dragging him into the situation.

"I'm sorry, Sir," she said with remorse.

At the same time, Sam said, "Sorry, Frank."

They both looked at each other curiously before snapping their attention back to Frank when he started talking again.

"This will not happen again. When I saw you two together yesterday, Sammy, I pulled Oliver aside. He didn't want to tell me, but he finally admitted that you asked for McNally. I thought maybe it was a one-time thing, and I wrote it off because it was your first day back. Then, when I noticed Nash riding with Noelle today, I assumed it was more of the same. So I dragged Noelle in here expecting to hear that Sam worked her over, too, and she tells me _McNally_ begged Nash to trade with her."

Wide eyes met wide eyes as Andy and Sam turned to look at each other in surprise.

"You asked for me?" he questioned her, pointing to his chest.

"_You_ asked for _me_?" she responded in disbelief.

"In the future, I'll take into account that the two of you like being partnered. You seem to work well together. That was good work with the kid today," Frank complemented them stiffly. "What I find extremely interesting is that Sam's never really expressed a preference for being partnered with any particular person before. If I send him out with someone other than Oliver or Noelle I run the risk that the person might come back in tears."

"That only happened one time," Sam interjected, rolling his eyes impatiently.

Frank leveled a shrewd look at Sam, adding, "With Sammy, we know he prefers to work alone, so if he's asking for you, McNally, that's a first and something that carries some weight with me. However, as much as I will try to schedule you together when I can, you need to be able to work with other people, too. So no more switching when you're with someone else. And I had better not find out about any funny business going on while you're on duty. Keep it professional," he warned them. "Now get out of my office."

As they walked back down to their desks, Sam had a self-satisfied smile on his face. "You _begged_ for me."

"I'm the first person you've ever wanted to be partnered with," she tossed back over her shoulder at him.

* * *

When Andy walked into the Penny after shift, she was surprised to see that almost everyone she knew was already there. Her friends had staked out a high-topped table in the middle of the crowd, and Sam was leaning against the bar, deep in conversation with Oliver and Jerry. She'd spent more time than usual showering and getting ready, but she hadn't realized she was that slow.

Going with what felt comfortable, she headed toward the rookie table and claimed an empty stool between Traci and Chris.

As soon as she sat down, Traci looked at her apprehensively. "I heard Frank came down on you and Swarek for switching partners. Sorry about that. I didn't think Noelle would say anything," she said apologetically.

"It's okay," Andy reassured her. "One of us was going to take the fall when he noticed, and it needed to be me. After all, I'm the one who made you switch."

"Thanks," Traci said, sliding a beer in Andy's direction. "I got this for you. Figured you could use it."

"After the day we had, I might need more than one."

When Andy glanced over her shoulder at Sam, Traci punched her lightly on the arm. "Admit it. There's something going on between you two, isn't there?"

Andy looked around cautiously, relaxing when she saw that Chris, Gail and Dov were locked in a deep discussion regarding whose turn it was to clean the bathroom at their apartment. They seemed oblivious to anything that didn't involve a scrub brush and a jug of bleach.

Sighing, Andy admitted, "Maybe. At least on my side. I just met him, though, so it's pretty crazy, right?"

"No, it's not crazy. And I would guess that it's probably mutual," Traci observed as she directed her attention to the bar. "He hasn't stopped watching you since you came in."

Andy looked over her shoulder again and smiled at Sam. He held up a beer as a reminder that he owed her one from the day before. She nodded eagerly and turned back to Traci.

"Andy, I just feel like you really need to think about what you're doing with Jeff. You know, whether you guys are going anywhere and what it means that you're having feelings for someone else . . . ."

"That's pretty much all I've been thinking about for the past two days. Jeff and I have been together for a while, and we have history together. I don't know if it's right to just toss that aside because someone new comes on the scene."

"First of all, is Swarek just someone new? Only you know the answer to that. I know it's only been two days, but I've never seen you this excited about Jeff. You're different. All I'm saying is that you need to think about what's happening here."

"I know," Andy agreed hesitantly. She really wasn't sure what was going on with her or how to handle it. It was all so new. She knew she wanted to get to know Sam better, but she didn't want to act rashly and ruin what she had going with Jeff because she'd developed a crush on another guy.

"Give it some thought, okay? And think about whether the only reason you're still with Jeff is because you're comfortable with him. That's a habit. Not a relationship." Traci muttered the last part hastily because Sam was on his way over to the table with two beers.

He slid one of the glasses toward Andy, queuing it up behind the one she was already drinking. "Looks like you've got your work cut out for you," he noted, eying the two beers in front of her.

"You're not kidding," she laughed, talking about more than just the drinks.

Sam looked behind him and grabbed a stool from a nearby table, bringing it over and dropping it between Chris and Andy. He slid onto it and turned to face her, holding his drink in one hand and resting his other arm on the table. "I wanted to apologize for this morning." When Andy nodded in acknowledgement, he continued. "Not that it's an excuse, but something was bothering me, and I didn't handle it well."

"No big deal," she said with a shrug. "Did you take care of the thing was bothering you?"

"Kind of," he said slowly as he smiled warmly at her. "I guess I decided to wait and see what happens."

"Hey, do you think I might be able to catch a ride home with you?" Andy asked, unconsciously leaning toward him and resting one of her feet on the bottom rung of his stool. To a casual observer, they looked like a couple on a date. And although neither of them seemed to notice, they were getting some very curious stares from the other rookies at the table.

"I think I could make that happen." When they finally looked away from each other and noticed the smirks and stares they were getting from the table's other occupants, Andy blushed and dropped her eyes to the table. Sam cleared his throat authoritatively, and four pairs of eyes immediately diverted themselves elsewhere. "I'll just, uh, go back over to the bar with Oliver and Jerry," he told her as he stood up. "Let me know when you're ready to go, okay?"

"Okay," she agreed, flashing him a full smile as he walked away.


	7. Chapter 7

**Thanks so much for all of the really nice comments. It's great to hear from you guys, and it keeps me feeling motivated to update often. **

**In an attempt to move this story along, I'm posting Chapter 7 and Chapter 8 at the same time. For the people who want Jeff to be gone, you'll probably be okay with Chapter 9. In the meantime, he's not featured heavily in these two chapters.  
**

* * *

"Hey," Andy said with emphasis as she sidled up to Sam at the coffee counter a few weeks after his return to 15. "Gonna miss me today?"

"I'm riding with Diaz, so yeah . . . seems likely," he admitted, stepping back with a fresh cup of black coffee. He waited beside her while she dumped cream and sugar into her own cup and stirred it around.

"Chris is cool," Andy observed. "And he's got a bit of a hero worship thing going on, so he should be putty in your hands."

"How so?"

"All you have to do is hit him with a few tales from your undercover adventures, and he'll be impressed."

"Tales from my undercover adventures?" Sam repeated dryly. "Don't ever say that again."

"Why not?" she laughed.

"It sounds lame."

"I'm just saying, knock his socks off and he'll do whatever you want—maybe even observe complete silence for an extended period of time," she whispered, stepping closer to him. She was actually a little too close for Sam's peace of mind. But hey, peace of mind was overrated anyway, and he certainly wasn't planning to shove her away if she wanted to stand in his personal space.

"Do people see me as the unapproachable UC guy?" he asked, knowing that he really only cared how _she_ saw him.

"Some do. But don't worry, I know there's more to you than the façade," she informed him with a smirk. Having finished stirring her coffee, she turned on her heel and walked toward the door. "Gotta go. Don't wanna keep Oliver waiting."

"Hey, McNally," he called after her, prompting her to turn around. "If you need a ride home after shift let me know."

"Thanks. Yeah, I probably do," she responded, rewarding him with a smile that he was starting to know as well as his own.

"I'll meet you after shift in the parking lot, then," he told her as she waved goodbye and disappeared down the hallway.

* * *

"Take a right at the next intersection," Oliver said suddenly. They were out on patrol, hoping to get a line on the girlfriend of a suspect in several home invasion cases in the area.

"Why? Do you think you know where to find her?" Andy asked, knitting her brows together in confusion. When they'd left the station only minutes before, neither of them had been able to come up with any credible leads.

"Nah." He dismissed her suggestion with a wave of his hand. "There's a guy two blocks over . . . runs a sandwich cart. Makes the best hotdogs in the city."

"Oliver, we're supposed to be looking for the suspect's girlfriend," Andy reminded him.

"We are," he assured her. "You never know, McNally . . . she might be standing in line waiting to buy a hot dog."

Andy laughed indulgently. "I'll try to stay open to the possibilities."

"That's all I ask. Be right back," he told her as he bounded from the car with an alacrity that surprised Andy, given his aversion to most forms of physical exertion. Just as he'd predicted, Oliver returned within minutes, happily brandishing a hot dog in each hand.

"Any luck finding the girlfriend?" Andy teased him when he opened the door.

"Must've just missed her." Oliver deftly shifted his food to one hand and pulled the door closed with the other. "Why don't we head over to her place of employment and talk to some co-workers," he suggested as he settled himself back against the seat and prepared to pay homage to the best hot dogs in the city during the twenty-minute drive across town.

"Sounds good to me," she agreed as she pulled the car out into traffic. "What's so special about these hot dogs? They look pretty ordinary to me."

"You wound me," he said, looking aggrieved. "To create the perfect hot dog, you have to achieve a symbiotic relationship between all of the elements, from the bread and meat to the condiments," he expounded. "Needless to say, these particular hot dogs hit pretty close to the mark. You don't know what you're missing."

"I'll take your word for it. It's a little hard to eat and drive," she said with a laugh. Hoping to talk about something other than processed meat, she asked, "So how're things at home?"

"Let's see," Oliver began, "one teenager, one tween and a nine-year-old who acts like she's twenty-four. At this point, it's a good day if one of them doesn't come home trying to hide a new tattoo or piercing. Just last week I caught some kid named Vito trying to sneak into Izzy's window."

"Ugh. That must've been rough," Andy sympathized. "How long before she's officially allowed to date?"

"Thirty, if I had my way. Zoe says fifteen is reasonable, though, so probably after her next birthday."

"Fifteen's good," Andy agreed. "Teenage girls are a real challenge. I remember I went through a rebellious phase in my early teens. Gave my Dad a lot of sleepless nights. I could tell you some stories-"

"Nope," Oliver interrupted her, holding up a hand to emphasize his point. "Don't you go filling my head with horror stories, McNally."

"Well at least you have Zoe to help share the load," she pointed out.

"I do," he acknowledged with very little conviction.

"Wow. You should definitely dial down the enthusiasm, Oliver."

"When you've been married for fifteen years, you'll see . . . ." he predicted. "Things aren't always so simple. Sometimes you just have to do the best with the hand you're dealt. "

"But you're happy, right?" she persisted.

Oliver hesitated. "I'm content." When Andy grimaced, he laughed to himself. "How about you, McNally? Do you think you'll ever do the family thing?"

"After listening to what you just said, I'm not so sure," she quipped.

"Hey. Don't get me wrong," Oliver quickly amended. "I've got a good life. I love my girls. I love my job. I love these hotdogs," he said as he waved the last bite in the air before popping it into his mouth. "Come on. You can't tell me you don't see yourself settling down one of these days. A nice little house with a yard. A couple of kids and a dog."

"Sure I can," Andy said wistfully. "You know, if I meet the right person, and the time is right."

Oliver seemed to be contemplating whether to say something else. Finally, he asked abruptly, "So what's the deal with you and Sam?"

Not particularly happy with the conversation's sudden shift to her personal life, she muttered, "There is no deal."

"But you want there to be one," he insisted.

"I don't know. I mean . . . yeah, I think so," she reluctantly admitted.

"Then what's holding you back?"

"Other than the obvious?" she asked, referring to Jeff.

With a shrug, Oliver conceded, "Other than that."

"I don't know . . . ." She allowed the statement to die on her lips, not wanting to get into a long discussion about her relationship issues. In fact, she did know what was holding her back. At least, she was starting to figure it out. The prospect of starting up something with Sam was forcing her to confront issues she'd never had to deal with in past relationships.

"The two of you would be great together."

"You think so?" She certainly thought so, but she liked hearing her own sentiments echoed by someone else.

"I do. Look, don't let yourself get caught in a dead relationship if you don't have to be there," he said. "If you have the chance to be really happy, don't waste it."

* * *

True to his word, Sam was waiting outside the station for Andy when their shift ended. The ride to her building wasn't long, but it was a route he was getting to know well. When he pulled up outside of her place, he put his truck in park and kept the engine running, as had become his habit when he dropped her off.

That night, however, Andy appeared to have different plans. Instead of getting out and telling him to have a nice night as she normally did, she hesitated, eying him contemplatively. Drawing in a breath and expelling it quickly, she asked, "Do you want to come up for a while?" Sam sensed a vulnerability in her tone, and he knew she was nervous even though she was covering it fairly well.

"Yeah, sure," he agreed almost immediately, hoping he didn't sound too eager. Turning off the ignition, he fought the urge to smile as he unbuckled his seat belt and opened the door. He walked around the front of the truck to find her already standing on the sidewalk waiting for him with her bag slung over her shoulder. "You know, I've never been inside your place before, McNally. This should be very telling," he teased her as they walked.

"Oh really," she laughed. "What are you expecting to find?"

"No expectations. Just looking forward to getting a glimpse into what makes you tick."

"Well, then . . . I guess I'm glad my ceramic unicorn collection is well-hidden," she giggled as she unlocked her door.

Sam followed her into the apartment, stopping just inside the door to look around as Andy threw her bag on the floor nearby and walked toward the kitchen. "Are you hungry?" she asked over her shoulder.

"A little," he admitted absently as he wandered toward the couch. On one of the side tables there was a picture of Andy and her Dad. That was to be expected. On that same table, there was also a picture of Andy and the guy she was dating. That was also to be expected but still an unwelcome reminder that she was in a relationship with someone else. Sam reminded himself that she'd been with the guy—he refused to think of him by name—for three years, and that wasn't something to just toss away on a whim. Sam knew that even if she were interested in him, it would take time for her to be able to make an informed decision. Still, he wasn't happy about that picture on the table, so as he sat down on the couch, he leaned over and nudged the frame with his finger until it was facing the other direction. He didn't need to have it staring back at him as a reminder of what he didn't have.

"Chinese or pizza?" Andy asked, holding up two menus as she came out of the kitchen.

"So we're ordering food . . . ."

"Well, you said you were hungry, and I just figured . . . if you have somewhere else to be, though, it's okay," she rambled self-consciously.

"Nope. Nowhere else to be," he confirmed, shaking his head as further confirmation. "And pizza sounds good."

"Great," she said brightly. "Pizza it is. Didn't you say you liked ham and pineapple?"

"No fruit," he reminded her gruffly, settling back into the couch cushions with a satisfied smile.

Several minutes later she joined him, effectively blocking his view of the boyfriend's picture when she sank down onto the couch beside him. "The pizza should be here in thirty minutes," she said, holding out a beer in his direction.

She turned to face him, pulling one leg up underneath her while the other one dangled off the edge of the couch. She was less than an arm's length away. Sam took a generous swig from the bottle in his hand, hoping to calm his nerves. The closer he got to her - literally and figuratively - the more he realized he was completely out of his depth. But, he acknowledged to himself, it wasn't an unpleasant feeling. If anything, he felt more alive than he'd ever felt before. Sam cleared his throat and smiled over at her. "So, McNally, how long have you lived here?"

"Two years. Moved in after college."

"Well it's not as frilly as I would have imagined," he observed.

"High praise," she responded with a laugh. "So what would I see if I were at your place?"

"Not much to see there. It's pretty sparse. I've only been back for a little while and before that, I was in and out so much that I never bothered to decorate."

"It's been almost a month," she reminded him. "Don't you think it's time to get settled in? Or are you planning to take off again soon?" she asked in a lighthearted tone.

"I think I'll probably stick around for a while. Things have gotten interesting this time around," he said, looking directly into her eyes and hoping she understood his meaning.

He knew she got it when she blushed and smiled self-consciously at him. "So is your last assignment totally finished now?"

"Pretty much. I have to testify in a few months, and then hopefully, they'll all be safely tucked away in prison for the foreseeable future."

"Are you worried about that? Testifying?" she asked, and Sam thought he detected a hint of concern in her tone.

"Not really. I've done it before. It's part of the job," he replied nonchalantly.

"I'm sure you'll do great," she assured him.

"We'll see," he said, barely paying attention to what he was saying. Truthfully, he was finding it pretty close to impossible to think about undercover assignments or anything else with her on the couch beside him.

"So tell me something about yourself that I don't already know," she demanded, taking a sip of her beer as she eyed him playfully.

He laughed uncomfortably. "That's a tall order. I'm a pretty deep well, you know."

"Then you have a lot of options to choose from," she prompted. "Come on. Just give me one teeny, tiny detail."

"Okay," he sighed. As a rule, Sam didn't like divulging a lot of personal information, and normally if a woman were asking for details about his personal life he would slam the vault shut. With Andy, though, he found himself wanting a deeper connection. And he knew that meant letting her see who he really was. "I'm an uncle," he said suddenly.

"An uncle," she repeated with a small smile. "Niece or nephew?"

"Nephew. My sister's kid," he responded, realizing that he'd now voluntarily given up two pieces of information with very little prompting.

"An uncle and a brother," she commented, not pushing for more than that. Ironically, that made him want to open up to her even more.

"Yep. My sister Sarah has a son. Alex. He's sixteen and currently carrying around a pretty big chip on his shoulder. Sarah's a single mom. She's really great at it, but she has her hands full with him right now." As he talked, Sam was unconsciously peeling off the label on his beer bottle. "Alex's Dad's not really in the picture and Sarah works a lot, which makes it hard for her to keep track of him. She doesn't like to accept help, so there's a limit to what I can do for her."

"Sounds like a strong person," Andy observed casually.

"She is," he agreed as the words started to flow more freely. "We had it pretty rough as kids," Sam explained hesitantly. As much as he wanted Andy to know more about him, he wasn't going down that road just yet. "Sarah left home when she turned 17, lived a pretty wild life for a couple of years and then managed to get pregnant with her then-boyfriend and Alex's father. Alex was actually the reason she ended up pulling herself together."

When he didn't continue, Andy asked, "So is Alex anything like his uncle? Strong silent type with a mushy center that he keeps well-hidden?"

"A mushy center, huh?" Sam raised an eyebrow at her.

"Like a truffle. You know—hard shell on the outside, mushy in the middle."

"A _truffle_?" he asked, and his voice went up an octave.

"Sure. Who doesn't get excited about a truffle? You know all of those candy bars in the checkout aisle at the grocery store? _Boring_," she informed him with an eye roll. "But a truffle . . . now that's not quite as easy to come by. It takes more effort to find one. And it's not usually something you buy in bulk. One good truffle and you're set. On the outside, there's that smooth hard surface, but when you finally bite into them, they're _so _good."

Sam looked at her with wide eyes and laughed. "Okay, when you explain it like that, I guess being a truffle sounds okay. I certainly wouldn't want to be associated with one of those regular candy bars at the grocery store," he told her with a mock sneer, eliciting a loud laugh from Andy.

When they heard a knock on the door, Andy pushed herself off of the couch. "That's probably the pizza, early as usual. I always get the best service from that place."

"Wait," Sam said. He stood up and stuck his hand into his pocket. "Let me get it."

"No. It's fine. I've got it," she argued and glanced at her bag near the door.

"You can get it next time," he assured her.

She hesitated before agreeing. "Fine, but the next one's on me. Thanks, Sam." She palmed the money he was holding out, and he dropped back down to the couch. He watched as she chatted with the delivery guy, a teenage boy with a enormous grin on his face. He would've been willing to bet that Andy was a regular customer and that the guys at her local pizzeria drew straws to determine who got to deliver her orders. As embarrassing as it was to admit, Sam realized he was just like that lovesick kid standing at the door. With time, his feelings for Andy were only intensifying. What amazed him was that as weeks went by, they weren't fading as they had so often with other women in his past. With Andy, he was experiencing feelings he'd never had for any other woman. Even when she infuriated him she was interesting. She'd knocked him off of his game and surprisingly, it felt good. He realized it was about time.

* * *

"Thanks, Jimmy," Andy called down the hallway after the kid. She pushed the door shut and carried the pizza with her to the kitchen, setting it on the counter temporarily. With arms reaching everywhere, she managed to amass a stack of utensils, plates and napkins on top of the box before picking it up and heading back toward the couch. She smiled to herself as she processed the fact that Sam was in her apartment and they were actually hanging out. And it felt _really_ good having him there. So good, in fact, that she was having a difficult time suppressing the urge to smile constantly. Andy knew she'd had a few crushes in her lifetime and they were always exciting at first. But this was more. She felt a connection to Sam that ran deeper than any crush she'd ever had. She couldn't get enough of him.

Andy dropped the pizza on the coffee table in front of Sam and plopped down on the couch beside him.

"I don't know about you, but I definitely worked up an appetite today," she announced as she threw back the top and handed him a plate. "We finally found that suspect's girlfriend. Unfortunately, she wasn't happy to see us, so she ran, _of course_. It took me three blocks to catch her, and Oliver was absolutely no help."

"Oliver doesn't run. He has rookies to do that for him." Sam chuckled as he slid a slice of pizza onto his plate. When Andy did the same and settled back against the couch, her shoulder unintentionally brushed against his and she smiled to herself.

"This is pretty good pizza," Sam conceded.

"Yeah, it is. And the delivery guys are always so nice." When she noticed Sam smirking at her, she bumped her shoulder against his and demanded, "What?"

"Nothing," he assured her, but she could tell he was fighting to keep a straight face. "So what's the deal with the paint samples?" he asked, nodding toward a section of the wall where she'd taped a series of swatches in different colors.

"I'm thinking of painting," she said with a shrug.

"But it's a rental, isn't it? Why would you paint a place you don't own?"

"You sound like Traci," she groaned. "So I want to paint my apartment. What's the big deal?"

"I'm telling you, McNally. No one paints a rental. It's a waste of time."

"It's just so white, and I want a little color on my walls," she complained, curling her lip in distaste. "Who says I can't have color simply because I'm a renter?" To reinforce her point, she'd been gesturing with her arms, and as they dropped back to her sides her hand bumped against Sam's. She knew she should move it away, but she couldn't bring herself to do it. Slowly, she turned her head to look at him and saw a small smile playing at the corners of his mouth. Within seconds, she felt his hand slide beneath hers - palm against palm - generating a warmth within her like she'd never felt before. She laced her fingers through his and leaned against him, trying not to think beyond the two of them in that moment.

"So what color would you paint it?" he asked casually.

"Red," she said emphatically.

"_Red_?"

Her laughter ricocheted around the room. "I'm kidding," she finally admitted. "Just something other than white. Maybe beige or brown. Green. Blue. I don't know. I'm pretty open."

"As long as it's not red," Sam said, looking down at their hands. "I probably need to go. We have an early shift tomorrow."

"Yeah," she agreed reluctantly. She knew he needed to go for other reasons, too.

Sam stood up and pulled her with him by their joined hands. Neither of them let go as he opened the door and hesitated on the threshold. "I had a good time," he told her with a crooked grin.

"Me, too," she said quietly, matching his smile with one of her own. She fidgeted with their interlocked fingers, wanting to keep him there as long as she could but knowing that she needed to send him away.

Finally, Sam leaned in and kissed her lightly on the cheek. "'Night, McNally," he whispered as he backed away and dropped her hand.

"'Bye, Sam." She closed the door and leaned back against it limply, still feeling his lips on her cheek. She knew what she wanted and what she had to do to get it. It was just the "how" that scared her.


	8. Chapter 8

**I'm posting this chapter and Chapter 7 at the same time, so if you haven't read 7, start there first.  
**

* * *

"Sammy!" Jerry greeted him with enthusiasm when Sam slid onto an adjacent bar stool after shift. Jerry slapped him on the back and motioned for the bartender to bring over another beer.

"Jerry," he acknowledged with a confused expression. "I told you I'd meet you over here. What's with the red carpet welcome?"

"Yeah, you did. I just wasn't sure if you'd actually show up. Haven't seen you in here much lately. Rumor has it you've been ferry-boating a certain rookie around all over town." Jerry cocked an eyebrow at Sam and took a pull from his beer.

Sam glanced down at the bottle in front of him. "What is this? A microbrew?"

Ignoring the attempt at evasion, Jerry pushed further, "You know she's in a relationship, right?"

"And your point is?" Sam responded in a carefully-controlled tone.

"I just don't want to see you getting too invested. She's with someone else, man."

Sam smiled tightly, working hard to appear disinterested. "I appreciate the concern, but I can take care of myself. Besides, when have you ever known me to get too invested in someone?" Sam pointed out, forcing his voice to stay level. He didn't want Jerry to know how closely he was hitting his mark.

"Never," Jerry admitted. "See, that's the problem. I've never seen you like this over a woman and it worries me."

"We're just working together when Frank assigns her to me," Sam assured him coolly. "And sometimes she needs a lift home after work. It's no big deal."

"Good to hear. Because I think I've got someone who'd be perfect for you."

"No way, Brother," Sam balked. "Don't even start. I'm not interested in one of your set-ups."

"Come on, Sammy. You've gotta get back in the game. You've been out of circulation for too long. It's time to start mingling with the fairer sex again," Jerry prodded him.

"I'm good, but thanks for the offer." Sam knew he was free to see anyone he wanted and that he should be getting back out there. He just didn't want to date anyone other than Andy. He had a good feeling about the two of them after hanging out at her apartment a few nights before. They were finally getting somewhere, and he felt like it was only a matter of time before everything fell into place.

"Just talk to Gwen," Jerry persisted. "She'll be here tonight, and I think the two of you would really hit it off."

"How convenient. Kind of like a blind date," Sam observed, flexing his jaw. Suddenly he felt like a guy with a target painted on his back.

"It's not like that. She just said she might stop by," Jerry insisted, ignoring Sam's scowl. "Look, man. You need to get out there and meet someone. I'm just trying to help."

"No thanks. I'm sure she's great, but I'm not interested."

Undeterred by Sam's lack of interest, Jerry tossed his arm around his friend's shoulders. "You need this. You've gotta clear your head, Buddy. Just talk to Gwen. She's a friend of my cousin's. Owns a clothing thrift shop across town. I'm telling you, she's a catch. _And_ she's available."

Shaking off Jerry's arm, Sam turned around and quickly scanned the bar to see who else was there. If Jerry had lured some unsuspecting female there to meet him, it seemed like he should do the right thing and at least talk to her, but he preferred not to have an audience while it was happening. As Sam looked around at the other patrons, he realized he was actually checking for McNally and was relieved when he confirmed that she wasn't there. Although he was technically free to do whatever he wanted, the last thing Sam wanted was for her to see him chatting up Jerry's friend. He knew it would only complicate things between them.

Turning the tables on Jerry as if he were in an interrogation room, Sam asked, "If she's such a catch, why aren't you going out with this woman? Did I miss something? Aren't you single?"

"I might not be as available as I used to be," Jerry disclosed to Sam smugly. "Of course, you'd know that if you'd been around recently."

Sam rolled his eyes as he nursed his beer. "Who's the girl?" he asked, taking the bait.

"Traci Nash," Jerry told him with a small smile.

"Nash," Sam repeated, letting the idea of his best friend and the rookie sink in. Sam decided it wasn't the worst pairing he'd ever seen. Nash was certainly a step up from the ex-wife, and she would be the type to keep Jerry in line. "Have you met her kid?"

"Not yet. It's still new. We're feeling things out. Keeping it light . . . ."

Sam had to admit he actually felt jealous of Jerry and the ease with which he appeared to be striking up a relationship with Nash. "Well, good luck, man."

"Thanks," Jerry said, looking over Sam's shoulder when the door to the parking lot opened.

"Is there some reason you're eying the door, Jerry?"

"Just looking for your date," Jerry grinned as his eyes involuntarily slipped toward the door again.

"I thought you said it wasn't a date," Sam grumbled.

"Look, when she gets here, just be nice," Jerry admonished him. "Gwen's a real class act." Behind him, Sam heard the familiar whine of the door as it opened again, and he watched Jerry jump to attention. Rolling his eyes, he dug deep looking for patience.

"Here she comes," Jerry whispered loudly. "Gwennie," he called as an attractive woman in her late twenties waved at him. She walked toward them with a purposeful stride, her curly blonde hair bouncing energetically on her shoulders. Her eyes were a striking green that made it difficult to look away from her, and she had an obvious appreciation for vintage clothing. "You're looking extra fine tonight," Jerry observed smoothly as he wrapped an arm around Gwen's waist and gave her a kiss on the cheek.

"Gwennie, this is Sam," he introduced them, prompting Gwen to redirect her attention from Jerry to Sam.

"Hi, Sam. Great to meet you," she said with a smile and an extended hand.

"Likewise." Sam shook the hand she offered and responded in what he hoped was a friendly tone. As irritated as he was with Jerry, he knew it wasn't Gwen's fault that she'd been coerced into meeting a guy who wasn't in the mood to be set up. "Can I get you a drink?"

"Sure. I'll have one of those," she told him, pointing to the pint glass in front of him, and Sam waved the bartender over.

Jerry excused himself under the completely unbelievable guise of having something urgent to discuss with another detective across the room. Sam glared at his friend's retreating back as he slipped away, leaving the two of them alone at the bar.

When her beer arrived and Gwen settled herself on the stool Jerry had vacated, she looked over at Sam astutely and smiled. "So I'm guessing you didn't have a lot of warning that I was coming."

"Why do you say that?"

"No reason really. I guess you just have the look of a guy who was only brought into the loop recently," she informed him with a smirk.

Sam's silence seemed to be enough confirmation for her to deduce that her assumptions were correct. "That's Jerry," she commented offhandedly. "I'll admit, I'm not a big fan of these types of set-ups, but as you know, it's hard to say no to Jerry. I ran into him while he was shopping in my store last week, and we started talking. When he mentioned that he had someone I should meet, I was skeptical at first. Then I just thought, 'Why not?' You only live once, right?" she laughed.

"Does Jerry do a lot of shopping at your store?" Sam asked casually.

"Not really. Actually, last week was the first time I've ever seen him there," she admitted.

"Interesting timing. . . ." Sam mused, running his tongue across his teeth and shooting a look in Jerry's direction. Jerry briefly glanced away from his conversation and raised his glass to Sam. "Jerry develops a sudden interest in vintage clothing and decides to check out your store and now here we are."

"Yeah. I had a feeling his motives weren't exactly pure when he brought up his friend Sam no fewer than four times in the span of fifteen minutes. Don't worry, though. He may have come in there with a hidden agenda, but he left with two suits, three pairs of pants, five dress shirts and two belts."

"Nice work," Sam laughed, clinking his glass against hers in appreciation.

"So how long have you been a cop?" she asked.

"Going on ten years. Went through the Academy with Jerry, actually. He and I started at 15 together."

"It must be hard on your family . . . worrying about you being out on the street all the time." She positioned her elbow on the bar and rested her cheek in the palm of her hand as she looked at Sam.

"Yeah. I guess," he said vaguely. "What about you? How long have you owned your own store?"

"It'll be four years in August," she told him.

"That can't be easy . . . running your own business."

"It's not easy, but it's rewarding when the shop's doing well. I get to say, 'I did that.'" She suddenly leaned in a little closer and whispered loudly, "Okay, I'm sorry to change the subject, but can I just say how refreshing it is to get set up with someone who isn't a total freak? I mean, you should see some of the blind dates I've had over the years."

"I hear you," Sam agreed. "It's a jungle out there."

"Tell me about your top three worst blind dates. I'll bet I can top them easily," Gwen challenged him.

"You're limiting me to three?"

"Yes. Otherwise, we'd be here all night."

"Ladies first," Sam offered.

"Okayyyy," she said, drawing out the word while she appeared to be thinking of which story to trot out first. "Let's see . . . number one has got to be the Batman impersonator. Came dressed in costume," she told him with a raised eyebrow.

"Mask and all?" Sam asked in disbelief.

"The works."

"Was it a costume party?" he asked hopefully.

"Sadly, it was not. If that had been the case it wouldn't have topped my list. Needless to say, I severed all ties with the person who set me up with him. At least the guy gave me a good story, though," she noted with a shrug. "Okay. Your turn."

Sam stared at the bar thoughtfully. "I went out with a dental hygienist a few years ago. Stared at my teeth the whole night. It made me so self-conscious that I called my dentist and made an appointment for a cleaning the next morning."

"She was probably just nervous," Gwen laughed. "There's not a thing wrong with your teeth."

"Maybe you're just saying that because you know it's a sensitive issue," he responded.

"Trust me. They're fine," she assured him. "And I'm not exactly sure that qualifies as a dating nightmare. I think you owe me another one."

"Okay. This one's definitely a contender," he promised. "Girl brought her mom on the date with her. Don't ask me why. I never figured it out. The mom talked the entire time, and at the end of the night she hit on me after the daughter got out of the car. Actually slipped me her number and told me to call her."

"Much better." Gwen grinned appreciatively. "I've actually had a similar experience," she confessed. "I went out with a guy who talked to his mother on the phone no fewer than ten times while we were out."

"What did they talk about?"

"Um, what to order from the menu . . . which movie she thought we should see . . . . Pretty much, if there was a decision to be made, he was running it by her first."

"Did you go out on a second date?" Sam asked and automatically dodged her hand when she swatted at him.

"Actually, I will say one thing for the mother . . . she had excellent taste in wines, and she picked a pretty decent movie. After I ditched him, I thought about asking her out."

Sam motioned for the bartender and ordered two shots.

"People will put up with a lot to find that perfect person," she reflected.

"Doesn't have to be perfect. Just has to be right," he told her.

"You sound like you're speaking from experience."

"Maybe I am," he admitted as the bartender set down two shots in front of them. Raising his for a toast, he said, "Here's to holding out for the right person."

After downing the shots, they rallied back and forth with their respective lists of dating nightmares for a while until Gwen proclaimed herself the winner. Sam had to admit, she'd been out with a lot of strange guys. It made him wonder if she'd be better off focusing her efforts on finding a new group of friends. After all, they were the ones responsible for most of her dating disasters.

As they moved on to other topics, he actually found himself having a good time in spite of his initial reluctance to go along with Jerry's plan. When her beer made its way to the bottom of the glass, Gwen straightened her posture and said, "It's getting kind of late, and I open early in the morning. Do you want to walk me to my car?"

"Sure. Let's go," Sam agreed, dropping money onto the bar to cover their tab. He guided her through the crowd, knowing Jerry would be watching them leave together with a satisfied expression on his smug, matchmaking face.

When they got to her car, she hit the unlock button, and it bleeped loudly in the quiet parking lot. Sam opened the driver's door for her and waited for her to get in the car. Pausing beside him, she said, "This was fun. We should get together again soon."

Sam looked at her with a "yes" on the tip of his tongue. Gwen was a wonderful woman. He knew he'd be crazy not to go out with her again. They'd had great conversation. She was gorgeous and came with a personality to match. Yet, he was hesitating. Finally, resigning himself to the truth, Sam acknowledged that as great as Gwen was, she wasn't great for him. She was no Andy McNally. Someday, Gwen would be someone else's Andy McNally, but she wasn't his. He was sure of that.

"I'm sorry," Sam sighed, searching for the words to let her down gently. "I can't. It wouldn't be fair to either of us."

Her brow wrinkled in confusion and he couldn't help but think of how McNally did the same thing when she was confused about something. "But I thought Jerry said you were single. Did I misunderstand?" she asked, looking bewildered and slightly embarrassed.

"No," he quickly assured her. "You didn't misunderstand. I'm not dating anyone, but I'm not available." Sam knew he sounded ridiculous and wishy-washy. Still, he felt relieved as he finally heard himself speak the truth out loud.

Amazingly, Gwen seemed to get what he was saying. Comprehension lit up her face suddenly. "You have feelings for someone else."

"Yeah," Sam confirmed, putting his hands in his pockets. He smiled ruefully at her.

"Okay then," she said with finality. "I should go." She sat down in the driver's seat and reached for the door to close it. Before she did, though, she looked up at him one more time. "She's a really lucky lady, Sam. I hope it works out for you."

As he watched Gwen drive out of the lot, Sam knew he'd made the right decision. Before McNally, she was exactly the type of girl he would have liked—smart, good sense of humor, cute, didn't take herself too seriously . . . . They would have dated casually for a while and had a good time together. But now, he just couldn't get past the feelings he was having for Andy. The longer he knew her, the stronger they got. As he'd been sitting at the bar with Gwen he'd found his thoughts drifting to Andy every few minutes, wondering where she was and what she was doing. He couldn't stop himself from replaying conversations he'd had with her. He kept seeing her smiling at him, and he just wanted to feel that connection with her all the time. As nice as Gwen was, he couldn't shake off the feelings he'd developed for Andy, and building something with someone who wasn't her just wasn't enough for Sam anymore. Now that he had that knowledge, it didn't seem fair to Gwen or anyone else to push forward in a relationship that wasn't what he wanted. Maybe Andy would never be his and if that came to pass, Sam would deal with it then and move on from there. For the time being, though, he was still willing to wait and see where things were going with them.

* * *

"Hi, Sweetheart," Tommy McNally said in surprise. "I didn't know you were coming by." He held the storm door open with his arm as the cool evening air followed her into the foyer.

"Hi, Dad." She walked past him, giving him a quick hug and a kiss on the cheek. "I was just out for a walk, and I thought I'd stop by to see how things were going."

"Well, you've got good timing. I was just about to fix myself a bowl of ice cream. Interested?" he asked as she followed him back to the kitchen.

"Got any rainbow sprinkles?" She hopped onto a stool at his kitchen island and looked at him expectantly.

From across the island, he placed both hands in front of him and leaned toward her. "When have you ever known me _not _to have rainbow sprinkles?"

"Then yes, I'd love a bowl of ice cream," she decided, grinning at him.

He dished out two heaping bowls full of ice cream and passed the container of rainbow sprinkles across to her.

"How did your date go the other night?" Andy asked as she took her first bite.

"Not bad."

When he didn't elaborate, she pushed further. "Are you going out with her again?"

"I don't know. Maybe," he replied indifferently.

Andy quietly stirred the ice cream around in her bowl, watching it turn into a runny mess of rainbow goo.

"Eat up, Kiddo. If not, you'll be drinking it pretty soon."

Andy managed a thin smile and took another bite to appease him.

"Why don't you tell me what's on your mind?" Tommy suggested. "We both know you didn't come by just to check up on your Old Man."

"What do you mean? Can't I just drop in to see how things are going?"

"Sure you can, but that's not why you're here right now," he averred, giving her a look Andy had seen many times throughout the years. It was the look of someone who knew virtually everything about her—including when she was being evasive.

"How do you know?" she challenged him, not willing to give in so easily.

"You're an easy read. And right now, it wouldn't even take a detective to figure out that something's bothering you."

Andy hesitated, swirling the ice cream around in her bowl absently. "I think I have to end things with Jeff," she confessed.

"What happened?" Tommy asked immediately.

Andy sighed. "Nothing happened. I just . . . ." she trailed off, searching for the words to explain what was going on with her. "I have feelings for someone else, Dad," she finally admitted. "And these feelings, they're getting stronger. At first, I wasn't sure what it was, so I thought I should give it some time. Jeff and I have been dating for a while, and we're pretty good together, you know?"

"You are," Tommy agreed mildly.

"I didn't want to make a mistake," she explained. "I mean, I'd just met Sam, and I didn't know how it would evolve. But now that I've gotten to know him . . . ."

Tommy scratched the back of his head thoughtfully. "I assume you're talking about Swarek."

When she nodded, he regarded her with a curious expression. "Swarek's a good guy," was all he said.

"He is," she affirmed, smiling faintly as she thought of Sam.

"So what's holding you back?"

Andy looked at him thoughtfully before answering. "You, Dad."

"Me?"

"I saw the way Mom hurt you. You really loved her, and she left you." She swallowed and added, "I'm afraid."

Tommy looked at his daughter as a look of understanding settled on his face. "Afraid of getting hurt?"

"Of course I am. Dad, it's been years since she left, and you've never been able to replace her. You're still carrying her with you. I just don't know if I can open myself up to the possibility that someone might hurt me like that," she revealed sadly.

"Sweetie, I loved your mother, and it did a number on me when she left. Until now, I don't think I ever realized how much it affected you to see me going through that," he said, taking her hand from across the island. "The thing is, though, my feelings for your mother are in the past. She's not the reason why I haven't settled down with anyone else—at least not directly, anyway."

Andy looked at him, feeling confused and skeptical. "Dad, you've been on a lot of dates over the years, and it's always the same. At best, you might date the person for a few months and then it always ends."

Tommy rubbed his free hand across the back of his neck, seemingly considering his next words to her. "Here's the thing," he began slowly. "I loved your mother very much, and because of that, I know what it's supposed to feel like. And just having those feelings for the time that I did was worth it even if I don't ever find anyone else who makes me feel that way again. I keep looking because I want that kind of love again if it's in the cards for me. But I'm also not going to settle for someone else if I only have lukewarm feelings for her. The reason I'm still single after all these years is not because I'm still carrying a torch for your mother. It's because I know what's possible, and I can't accept anything less."

"So you're telling me you're not still pining for Mom?" Andy asked in disbelief.

"That's what I'm telling you. Andy, as someone who's experienced love, I can tell you that it's worth it for whatever amount of time you're given. For some, it's a lifetime. For others, like your mom and me, it's only for a little while. But don't be afraid of it because you're worried that you'll get hurt. If you go through life like that you'll miss out on so much, and that's not what I want for my little girl. Don't settle for something just because it's easy," he said pointedly.

"And you think I'm 'settling' when I'm with Jeff?" she asked.

"I'm pretty sure you already know the answer to that."

"Yeah. I guess I do," she admitted, resigning herself to the inevitable as she got up off of her stool. "I should get going, Dad. This has been really helpful."

Tommy chuckled to himself as he walked her to the door. When Andy looked over at him, he mumbled, "Sam Swarek."

She rolled her eyes, and Tommy put a hand on her shoulder as he tried to explain. "It's just that if I ever pictured you finding that right person for you, it wouldn't have been Swarek."

When she started to speak up, he held up a hand to silence her. "But I saw it all over your face as soon as you mentioned him. It's different this time. Like I said, you're an easy read."

"It is different this time, Dad. I don't know what it is, but I just feel really hopeful—like there might be a future there. It's enough for me to want to take that leap."

"Swarek," he repeated, shaking his head.

"Dad," Andy laughed. "What's wrong with Sam? Can you not see us together?"

"No, no, it's not that. I'm just trying to come to terms with him being _that_ guy for you."

"I don't remember you having this issue with Jeff or any guy I dated before him," she pointed out.

"That's because I never even considered it with Jeff. You two are good together—don't get me wrong. I've just always known he wasn't _the_ guy."

"Really?" she asked suspiciously. "How did you know?"

"I could just tell." When she stared at him expectantly, making it clear that she wanted him to elaborate, Tommy continued, "You deserve something amazing, Sweetheart. And I've never said anything before because you always seemed content with whatever guy you were dating, but as your father, I've always secretly hoped you'd find that. And if Swarek's the guy, don't let your fears hold you back. I don't want you to miss out on something incredible because you're afraid of getting hurt."

"Thanks for the talk, Dad." She smiled up at him and wrapped her arms around his neck.

"Anytime," he said as he held open the door for her. "Have a nice walk. Don't stay out too late."


	9. Chapter 9

**Thank you, thank you, thank you for leaving so many nice comments and messages. ****I'm posting Chapters 9 and 10 together because I didn't like the thought of leaving the story hanging at the end of Chapter 9 (you'll see what I mean when you get there). These two chapters are kind of a package deal anyway. Thanks for reading!**

* * *

"Are you going to Jerry's party tonight?" Sam leaned over and whispered to Andy. As they waited for Frank to come in and start Parade, he let his arm fall casually across the back of her chair.

"Yeah. You?"

"Wouldn't miss it. At least, Jerry wouldn't let me miss it. Do you need a ride?" he asked, aiming for a casual tone.

"I told Traci I'd go with her," she answered apologetically, scrunching up her nose and giving Sam every indication that she'd rather be riding with him.

He swallowed his disappointment, consoling himself with the knowledge that Andy seemed as frustrated as he was about the situation. A ride to the party would have opened the door to taking her home afterwards. And that would mean . . . well, he wasn't sure what that would mean. He was ready to push for more between them, though. It had been a week since the non-date with Gwen, and in spite of his resolution at the time to wait for Andy, Sam was growing impatient. He refused to become the guy permanently glued to the sidelines while she dated someone else. Enough was enough.

"I'll see you there, though," she promised with a reassuring smile, leading him to believe that he might have a good shot at getting her to ride home with him after all.

The sound of Frank clearing his throat had their heads snapping to the front of the room. As he began talking, Sam kept his eyes focused on Andy. He knew he should be paying closer attention to what Frank was saying, but the view to his right was just too tempting. **  
**

"Stop staring at me," Andy muttered through clenched teeth, keeping her eyes fixed on the front of the room.

Sam leaned toward her and whispered, "How do you know I'm staring at you?"

"I have really amazing peripheral vision." She turned to look at him, bringing their faces within inches of each other. "My ophthalmologist says I'm a medical marvel."

"Kind of like a super power," Sam observed.

"Just one of my many talents," she responded smugly, leaving Sam to speculate about what those other talents might be. He wasn't afforded long to think about it, however, because the sound of Frank addressing the two of them dragged him back to the present.

"So we should all say a thank you to Officers Swarek and McNally," Frank announced loudly, prompting both of them to shift their attention back to the front of the room in one synchronized movement. "Oh good. Welcome back, you two," Frank said, aiming a menacing smile at them. "I was just explaining that the local animal shelter is short-staffed right now and that as police officers, we should set an example for the rest of the community by volunteering to help out. Walking dogs, cleaning cages, bathing animals, whatever they need help with . . . . I think I speak for everyone here at 15 when I say that we all appreciate that you've each committed to taking on a Saturday morning shift there next month."

"Anything we can do to give back," Sam responded easily. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Andy look down at the table contritely, clearly embarrassed about being caught flirting during Parade.

Frank shot Sam a stern look. "Okay. Let's wrap this up, people. Party tonight at Detective Barber's house. Seven o'clock-"

"Eight o'clock," Jerry piped up from the back of the room.

"Eight o'clock," Frank amended. "Bring some friends. Have a few drinks. Trash the place. Just as long as no one calls the cops. Now, get out there and be safe."

"Well, that was embarrassing," Andy muttered to Sam as she stood up from her seat. "Remind me never to sit beside you again."

"Nothing but a hollow promise, McNally." Sam shrugged, firing off a cocky grin. "We both know you can't stay away from me. See you tonight?"

"I'll be there. Have a good shift."

* * *

"Hey, Trace," Andy mumbled into her phone. "I think I'm gonna be late. You should go on without me, and I'll meet you there." No sooner had she gotten the words out of her mouth than her phone slipped from its precarious position between her ear and shoulder and plummeted toward the bathroom sink. Andy lunged for it, managing to scoop it up just before it sank into a pool of soapy water. "Hah! Caught it!"

"Is everything okay?" Traci asked uncertainly on the other end of the line.

"Sorry," Andy said as she brought the phone back to her ear. "I was trying to multitask. Apparently I lack the skills necessary to hold a phone and put toothpaste on a toothbrush at the same time."

"Thankfully, you've got other talents to fall back on," Traci laughed. "So what happened? When I talked to you two hours ago you said you were ahead of schedule."

"I was," Andy groaned, "which is why I decided to take a nap. Unfortunately, I forgot to set my alarm, and now I'm late."

"Do you want me to wait for you?"

"No. It's fine. Go ahead. It's not a long walk to Jerry's place. I'll be over as soon as I pull myself together," she insisted.

"You're sure?" Traci asked again.

"Yes," Andy laughed. "Go. I know you're dying to see Jerry."

"I am," Traci admitted, and Andy could hear the smile in her friend's voice. "Okay. I'll see you there."

"See ya." Andy tossed the phone on the counter beside the sink and shoved the toothbrush in her mouth.

Thirty minutes later, she walked out of her building, happily humming to herself as she thought about seeing Sam at the party. After talking to Traci, she'd considered calling him to ask if she could catch a ride after all. In the end, she decided against it, though. She didn't want him to have to wait for her. Still, there was nothing stopping her from accepting a ride home with him after the party if he offered . . . . Nothing except Jeff, she reminded herself, and instantly felt guilty for being excited about seeing Sam when she hadn't ended things with Jeff yet. She'd been waiting for a week to have the inevitable conversation with him, and as much as Andy was dreading it, she just wanted to get it all out there and move on.

As she walked down the sidewalk away from her building, a blue car crept into her line of sight. She turned toward it warily, aiming an intimidating stare at the driver. Suspicion quickly dissolved into relief, however, when she saw that it was only Jeff. As Andy approached the car, he rolled down the window on the passenger side.

"Did I scare you?" he asked.

"Does it make me less of a cop if I say yes?"

"Not at all," he informed her. "It just makes you careful."

"So what're you doing here?" she asked with a confused smile. "I thought you were up to your elbows in final exams."

"Just taking a break. I thought maybe you'd want to grab some dinner. We haven't seen each other all week, you know."

"I was actually on my way to Jerry's party . . . ." Andy began uncertainly.

"I forgot you had that tonight. Sorry," he said with a sigh. When she really looked at him, she saw the unmistakable traces of exhaustion etched across his face. "You know how it goes . . . . Things always get crazy during finals week, even when it's summer school."

"Don't worry about it," she assured him. "I get it."

"Come on. Get in," he said suddenly. "I'll come with you to the party. It's been a while since I hung out with your friends. I haven't even met most of the new ones." Jeff beckoned for her to get in the car, and Andy reluctantly opened the door.

As she settled into the passenger seat she closed her eyes briefly and focused on a series of deep, even breaths. She couldn't take Jeff to the party—not with Sam there. And the fact that she didn't want to take him with her because of Sam only reaffirmed that she was doing the right thing by ending the relationship.

"Um, why don't we go back to my apartment and talk," she suggested in a small voice, hating herself for whatever hurt she was about to inflict upon him. As much as she wanted the freedom to act on her feelings for Sam, the notion that Jeff would no longer be a part of her daily life was a sobering one for her. Even though she was now firmly convinced that Jeff wasn't the guy for her, their shared memories and experiences were going to make it difficult to say goodbye to him.

"Whatever you want," he said carefully. "Are you sure you don't want to go to the party?"

"Yeah. I'm sure," she said, looking over at him sadly.

* * *

When Sam opened Jerry's front door, a boisterous blend of voices and music greeted him. Closely guarding the six-pack in his right hand, he navigated around several large clusters of people in the living room and headed toward the kitchen. Just as he'd done in the living room, Sam quickly scanned the kitchen, looking for Andy in the mix of people scattered around the room. Seeing no sign of her or Nash, he made his way over to a collection of coolers near the back door. Popping one of them open, he dropped his six-pack in and pulled out a bottle that was already cold.

"Hey, Sammy. Where's your sidecar?" Jerry asked as he came in from the back porch.

Sam positioned his beer bottle against the edge of the counter and sent the top flying. He cut his eyes at Jerry, silently warning him to proceed with caution.

"You know-McNally," Jerry persisted.

"Yeah. I got that," Sam said, biting off the words as they exited his mouth.

"Touchy." Jerry gripped Sam's shoulder with one of his hands. "Take it easy. It was just a joke, man."

"She's coming with Nash," Sam finally forced out, hoping to put an end to the relentless jabs at his personal life.

"Traci's out back with Oliver and Noelle. Came by herself," Jerry informed Sam as he nudged him toward the back door.

Suddenly preoccupied with Andy's whereabouts, Sam was barely aware that he was being guided out onto the porch by a series of increasingly more persistent jabs to the lower back. Outside, Oliver was leaning against the porch railing with a bottle in one hand and his other arm hanging loosely around Noelle's shoulders. Sam nodded at them and gulped his beer as he settled against the railing nearby.

"Where's McNally?" Oliver asked almost immediately.

"How would I know?" Sam snapped. Everyone was assuming she should be with him, and the questions were only making him more irritated that she wasn't.

"Easy, Brother. When she didn't show up with Nash I just figured she'd be with you."

"Well, she's not. I don't know where she is," he grumbled. Sam knew he sounded edgy. He _was_ edgy. He wanted to ask Nash where she was, but he knew he'd draw too much attention to himself, so instead, he slumped back against the railing and brooded.

Each time the back door opened, Sam looked up expectantly, only to be even more annoyed when it was someone other than Andy. After that happened four or five times, he forced himself to stop looking and tried to focus on whatever Oliver was saying to Jerry, Traci and Noelle. Unfortunately, hearing about the sandwich Epstein bought Oliver for lunch wasn't enough to hold Sam's attention, and as Oliver started congratulating himself for teaching Epstein how to recognize the virtues of a good sandwich, Sam tuned him out altogether.

When Traci's phone beeped several minutes later and she mentioned that it was a text from Andy, Sam tuned in again, barely concealing his impatience as he waited for her to elaborate.

"She can't make it. Something came up," Traci explained vaguely as she read through Andy's text. She typed in a quick response and then pocketed her phone before shifting her attention back to the group.

"Is she okay?" Sam asked immediately, fighting the urge to yank the phone out of her pocket and read the text himself. Not knowing what was going on was making him crazy.

"Yeah. She's good," Traci assured him, offering no further details.

Realizing he'd been stonewalled, Sam gave up and took a pull from his beer as he thought about what might be keeping Andy away from the party. That morning in Parade she'd seemed excited, and that made him worry about what might have happened since then to prevent her from being there.

Finally, Sam decided he'd had enough. "I'm going in for another drink," he muttered as he shoved off of the railing and moved toward the door, leaving a half-empty beer bottle behind. Inside, he found more of the same—a sea of people and noises that only seemed remote and uninteresting to him. So after doing a few laps around the house, he excused himself from the party altogether and walked out Jerry's front door.

* * *

As Jeff closed the door gently behind them, Andy stood to the side with her eyes fixed on the ground and her hands jammed into her pockets, summoning the courage to push past her fear of the unknown and do what needed to be done. When she looked up, he was leaning against the closed door, watching her expectantly.

"We need to talk," she sighed, deciding that she might as well just rip off the Band-Aid. The mercifully short ride back to her apartment had been completely silent, and she knew Jeff had to suspect what was about to happen.

"Yeah. I think we probably do," he agreed, pulling her over to the couch by the hand. He settled near the middle, tugging on her arm until she dropped down onto the cushion beside his.

Shifting so that her back was against the armrest and she was facing him, Andy muttered, "Quit being so nice to me. You have to know where this is going."

"I have a pretty good idea," he admitted with a wry smile. "Andy, you're not in this relationship anymore. If we're being honest, you haven't been here for a while. We both know you're somewhere else. And that's okay. But you need to tell me."

Jeff's tone was so honest and even that Andy found herself working hard to stave off the tears that had been threatening to fall since she got into his car. She took a deep breath and swiped at her eyes as her lip trembled from the effort of trying to hold it all in. "Sorry, I'm such a mess," she said apologetically.

"Not a problem," he told her patiently. "If you weren't at least a little upset I'd feel even worse."

"Why do you have to be such a decent guy, Jeff?" she asked in frustration. "If you were angry it would make this so much easier."

"I'm mostly just bummed out."

"Me, too," she agreed, touching his arm lightly. "I don't want to give you the 'it's not you, it's me' speech, but in this case, I swear it really is me. You've done absolutely nothing wrong," she assured him. "I just need something else."

"You mean someone else," he interjected, showing the first hint of bitterness she'd seen from him since they walked through the door.

"I'm sorry," she said softly. Hearing Jeff reveal his suspicion that she had feelings for someone else was a surprise to her. She realized it shouldn't have been, though. After all, Jeff wasn't an idiot. She hadn't exactly hidden the fact that she'd been spending time with Sam, and she'd probably been talking about him more than she realized. "Jeff, I've given this a lot of thought, and you should know that I didn't come to this decision lightly. The fact that I'm having thoughts about someone else tells me that as good as you and I are together, something is missing from our relationship. To be honest, I guess I've felt it for a while. It just took someone new to show me what we're lacking."

"How long have you felt like something was missing?" he asked, allowing the hurt he was undoubtedly feeling to seep through in his voice.

"I don't know. Until the last month or so, it was more of an occasional thought that I ignored, but now . . . ." Andy trailed off, not wanting to admit the truth to him. How could she tell him that the feelings she was having for Sam were like nothing she'd ever experienced with him or anyone else? Instead, she turned the tables on him, thinking that if she knew things weren't right between them, maybe he'd picked up on it, too. "Are you telling me you've never had any doubts about us?"

"Maybe," he admitted after a few seconds. He blew out a long breath before continuing. "Everything between us is just so comfortable. And we have so much fun together. I really love being with you, Andy. If we're being completely honest, though, I sometimes think we might be too much alike - so similar that we don't get to appreciate each other's differences."

"You do?" she asked, surprised that she wasn't the only one with misgivings about their relationship. He'd never let on that he was having doubts about them, but she knew she hadn't exactly been up front with him either.

"Do you love him?" Jeff asked suddenly, catching Andy off guard.

"I don't know. Honestly, Jeff, nothing has happened between us. It's important to me that you know that. There's a connection, and I think we both feel it. At this point, I really need to find out where the relationship can go," she told him as her thoughts crept involuntarily to Sam. She was trying to focus exclusively on Jeff, but even when Sam wasn't around he was a distraction for her.

"Well, I appreciate your honesty," he said. All color had drained from his voice, and as much as Andy knew he was trying to be okay with her decision, she also knew how much she was hurting him.

"Are you gonna be all right?" she asked.

"I have to be," he acknowledged with a shrug. Heaving a huge sigh, he said, "I'm gonna go. I need some time to think about all of this. Maybe we can talk again in a few days when my head is clearer. You know, do the ceremonial returning of the stuff and all." That brought a small smile to his face, but it didn't reach his eyes.

He started to get up from the couch but sat down again when someone knocked on the door. Andy looked from Jeff to the door in confusion. Almost everyone she knew was at Jerry's party. Thinking that it might be her Dad, she got up slowly and trudged across the room, not looking forward to the awkward interaction that would undoubtedly follow when he realized what he was interrupting.

* * *

Sam knocked on Andy's door and stepped back, trying to calm his nerves as he waited for her to answer. From the street he'd been able to see that her lights were on, so he knew she was home. He wasn't sure what he expected to find when she opened the door, but he hoped nothing was wrong. For the most part, he was worried about her, but there was also a part of him that had come over to her apartment simply because he wanted to see her.

The door opened and she stood in front of him looking confused. "Sam?"

Andy shifted uncomfortably in the doorway, and it didn't take long for Sam to see why. "Perfect," he muttered when he saw her boyfriend sitting on the couch. Andy seemed to be silently pleading with him for understanding, but Sam decided he was done being understanding. And more than that - he was just done. Shaking his head in disgust, he turned and walked down the hallway, feeling ridiculous for showing up there in the first place. He was furious with himself and with her for allowing things to become so convoluted between them. As he walked away from Andy, Sam finally saw the truth that he'd been denying since he first found out Andy was taken. She was never leaving the boyfriend.

From behind him Sam heard a door slam and feet running down the hallway in his direction. He quickened his pace, knowing it was Andy.

As he bolted from the building he heard her calling his name and yelling for him to stop. He could tell from her voice that she was getting closer. Up ahead, his truck came into view, and he broke into a light run as he approached it.

Without warning, a small but firm hand locked around his upper arm from behind, forcing him to a stop. "Sam, wait," Andy said breathlessly, sliding around him so that she was standing between him and the truck.

Refusing to make eye contact, Sam schooled his features in an attempt to conceal all of the angry disappointment that was smoldering inside of him.

Andy loosened her grip and allowed her hand to slide down to his wrist, maintaining a light hold on him as she moved closer.

"That wasn't what you think-"

"I don't care what it was," he responded with an intensity that had her visibly stiffening. "Andy, I'm tired of playing games. You can do what you want," he muttered bitterly, wrenching his arm free and skirting around her in pursuit of his truck.

"Sam, don't leave," she called after him helplessly.

"Why not? So I can go back in and hang out with you and your boyfriend? No thanks, McNally," he hurled at her over his shoulder.

"Sam! Would you just wait a minute?!" she shouted in frustration.

Swinging his door open, he stopped to look at her before climbing into the truck. "_Wait_? You want me to _wait_? That's all I've been doing since I met you," he leveled at her.

"And you think I haven't?" she replied furiously, flinging her arms out for emphasis. Sam could see the anger building in her, and he was glad to see it. If nothing else, he wanted the satisfaction of knowing that he mattered enough to make her angry. "Do you think this has been easy on me, Sam? You came into my life out of nowhere and everything suddenly changed. How could you possibly expect me to drop a three-year relationship for a guy I'd just met? Who does something like that?"

Although her words stung, Sam gleaned some small amount of satisfaction from hearing her finally vocalize what they'd been dancing around since their first day on the job together.

"Clearly, not you," he said, forcing out a cynical laugh. "I'm going home. Have fun with your boyfriend." He climbed into his truck and wrenched the door closed.

Sam started the ignition and watched as Andy hugged herself tightly and dropped her head to her chest in defeat. Seeing her like that, his impulse was to go back and make sure that she was all right. He resisted, though. He was too angry at her. Angry at her inertia. Angry that she hadn't stepped forward and acknowledged what was going on between them sooner. Angry that instead of being with him, she was still with another guy. Most of all, though, he was angry at himself for letting Andy get to him in the way that she had. She'd gotten too close, and he'd allowed himself to believe that they might actually have a chance to be more. Now he was left feeling disappointed and empty. That was definitely what Sam was angriest about, and it was what hurt the most.

* * *

Andy could hear the sound of Sam's truck driving away, and she refused to look up. She couldn't watch him leave. She knew she should have tried harder to tell him about the breakup, but he'd blind-sided her with his anger and his unwillingness to listen. Andy acknowledged that she was guilty of dragging her feet as far as breaking things off with Jeff went, and she understood why Sam was so angry. He was right. He had been waiting, and being on that side of things had to be frustrating. But she also firmly believed everything she'd said to Sam only minutes before. She'd been with Jeff for three years and by comparison, whatever was happening with Sam was fairly new. And then there was what she hadn't told him because he hadn't given her the chance—she was afraid of getting hurt. Her feelings for Sam were so much more intense than anything she'd ever felt before, and she knew that a relationship between the two of them had the potential to leave her devastated if something went wrong.

Feeling completely defeated, she turned back toward the building and tightened her arms across her chest as a buffer from the chilly night air. She felt utterly fried, and she didn't know what to do next.

When Andy got to the door of her building, she swung it open and nearly collided with Jeff. He extended a hand to steady her but retracted it quickly when he realized that she didn't need his help. He stuffed both hands into his pockets as they stood awkwardly in the doorway, neither able to continue forward because the other was blocking the way.

"I'm really sorry about all of that," Andy managed, feeling as deflated as she was sure she must look.

"Yeah. That was some colossally bad timing," he agreed with a rueful smile. "I think I'm gonna take off."

"Okay," she sighed. "I'm so sorry, Jeff. For everything."

"Don't be sorry. At least I get where you're coming from now. You've never run after me like that," he observed.

Andy took a step toward him and wrapped her arms around his neck. When she felt his arms tighten around her waist, she knew that it would probably be the last hug they'd ever share. Before everything had exploded with Sam, she'd dreaded the moment when she'd have to say goodbye to Jeff, but at least she'd known she was moving toward something. As sad as she'd been about breaking up with Jeff, she'd still felt hopeful about the possibilities that it was opening up with Sam. Now that Sam was mad at her, she knew that when she let Jeff go, she really had nothing.

Pulling back, Jeff gave her a parting smile. "I'll probably give you a call in a few days," he told her as he backed away. "Good luck with everything, Andy."

"Thanks." She stepped out of his way and watched as he walked to his car. After he left, Andy somehow managed to make it to her apartment before the tears really started flowing. She allowed herself to wallow in the fact that Jeff would no longer be a part of her world. As much as they might try to remain friends, she realized that was a long shot. Seeing him drive away was the equivalent of watching him walk out of her life for good. She wasn't sorry about her decision to end things, but she was going to miss him.

When Andy ran out of tears for Jeff, she found a fresh supply waiting in reserve as she thought of the mess she'd made of everything with Sam. She crawled into bed and pulled the covers over her head, wondering if she'd be able to make things right between them. She worried that once he found out that she'd ended things with Jeff, it still wouldn't matter. She knew there was a possibility that she'd left things hanging for too long. As exhaustion claimed her and she drifted off to sleep, her last thoughts were of Sam and whether she'd ruined everything.


	10. Chapter 10

**Chapters 9 and 10 are being posted at the same time, so if you came here first, you may want to go back and read 9. :)**

* * *

When Andy woke up the next morning, the sun was streaming in past the curtains she'd forgotten to close the night before. She pulled the comforter up to her chin and groaned. She knew she needed to get ready for work, but for perhaps the first time ever, she considered staying in bed and calling in sick. Even as the thought entered her mind, though, she knew it was the coward's alternative. "Andy McNally," she told herself impatiently, "you are better than this. Stop wallowing. Today is about setting things right."

She threw off the covers and stumbled out of bed toward the shower, already forming an action plan that centered around fixing things with Sam. The shower worked its magic and she came out feeling renewed and refreshed as if she'd washed away the remnants of the day before and everything it signified. Jeff was in the past and as much as that thought saddened Andy, her excitement at the prospect of being with Sam was slowly building again and overshadowing it. She had a fresh start, and she intended to make the most of it.

By the time she left her apartment, she felt empowered. She walked to work bouncing her backpack lightly on her back as she thought of all the things she wanted to say to Sam. She even popped into the coffee shop just around the corner from the station and bought them both a muffin. When she got to work, she blew through the doors of the station, single-minded in her determination to find Sam and make him listen to her. Her plan was simple: lay all her cards on the table and hope for the best.

* * *

Sam slipped into Parade and leaned against the back wall, sticking as close to the door as possible. He couldn't handle being boxed in; he needed to be near the door in case he felt the urge to get out fast.

"What happened to you last night, Brother? Where did you go?" Oliver asked from beside him.

"Home."

"Everything okay?"

"Yeah," Sam responded dismissively, hoping that Oliver would take the hint and leave him to sulk in peace. He'd lost Andy, and he needed time to figure out where to go from there. At no time since he'd met her had he allowed himself to consider what failure might actually feel like. And that, Sam realized, had been his greatest mistake.

Seemingly unimpressed by Sam's attempts at evasion, Oliver plowed ahead. "Seemed like you took off pretty quickly after Nash got that text from McNally," he observed.

Sam rolled his eyes and folded his arms across his chest. "And your point is?"

"No point," Oliver claimed. "Just an observation."

Oliver watched Sam intently for several seconds before refocusing on the front of the room, seemingly content to let him brood in silence. Strangely, as soon as Oliver stopped prodding him, Sam realized that he actually did feel like talking. He blamed McNally for that. One month with her and he was turning into a talker. "I went over to her place," he heard himself say.

If Sam's confession surprised Oliver, he covered it well. "Was she there?"

"She was there," Sam confirmed. "But she wasn't alone."

Oliver regarded Sam with an expression that was equal parts curious and suspicious. Eventually, he looked away but continued casting furtive glances at Sam, giving one the impression that he had something to get off his chest.

"Do you have something to say, Oliver?" Sam asked in a carefully-controlled tone.

"Here's the thing, Sammy. I've known you for a long time, and I recognize that look."

"What look?"

"The look that says you want out. Like you might be planning to take off on us again," Oliver explained.

When Sam didn't respond, Oliver appeared to interpret that as a confirmation that his theory was correct. "We both know you're gonna do what you want, but I really think you should sit on this one for a while. Don't act rashly. You'll only end up doing something you'll regret."

"I'll take that into consideration," Sam said dryly as Andy came in through the door on the other side of the room. When she sat down and looked his way, he diverted his eyes, refusing to be drawn in by the beseeching looks he knew she was sending him.

* * *

When Andy walked through the door to the Parade Room, Sam was leaning against the back wall, engrossed in conversation with Oliver. She slid into a seat in the third row beside Dov and tried to catch his eye. Whether intentional or not, he didn't look her way, so Andy sat back and half-listened as Frank held court at the front of the room. She looked in Sam's direction a few times, but each time, his eyes were locked on Frank.

As soon as they were released, Sam slipped out the door. Andy practically sprinted out into the hallway and trailed him at a rapid clip as he made his escape to the parking lot. According to the roster, he was riding alone, so she knew that if she let him get as far as the squad car he'd be gone before she had a chance to talk to him. He was making good time as he approached the cruiser, but she was right behind him and finally caught up as he was getting into the car. When he saw her rushing toward him he paused with his arm on top of the door and one foot inside the car.

"Sam, we need to talk," she said urgently, pausing when she noted the coldness in his expression. Worry was starting to chip away at her resolve and for the first time that morning she allowed herself to consider the possibility that he might not even give her the opportunity to say what she wanted to say to him.

"McNally, I'm tired of talking. I need more than that. I need more from you." If possible, he sounded even angrier than he had the night before. The venom in his tone caught her off guard and she froze, unable to do more than stare at him helplessly. Taking advantage of the silence, Sam escaped into the car and slammed the door.

As he pulled out of the lot Andy trudged over to Chris and held out the bag from the bakery. Looking inside, Chris chirped, "Muffins. Cool. I wish I'd brought you something."

"Let's go," Andy said in a lifeless tone, dropping into the passenger seat of their cruiser.

"What's wrong?" Chris asked as he slid in behind the wheel and started the car.

"Everything. It's all just one huge mess," she groaned as she let her head fall back against the seat. "I broke up with Jeff," she finally offered.

"Wait. What?" Chris asked in surprise.

"I said I broke up with Jeff," Andy repeated.

"So why is Swarek upset?"

"He showed up at my apartment while Jeff was still there, and he got the wrong idea. I went after him and tried to tell him, but he was just so _mad_," Andy explained. "He said he was tired of waiting."

"I guess I get it in a way. I mean, I see your side, too," Chris added quickly. "It's just that he _really _has it bad for you, Andy."

"That's convenient because I _really_ have it bad for him, too."

"So fix it."

"You make it sound so simple." Andy looked at him skeptically from across the car. "It's not that easy."

"It is. Just tell him you broke up with Jeff," Chris said succinctly.

"What if he doesn't care? What if it doesn't make a difference? It might be too late."

"Andy, it's not too late," he insisted. "He'll come around. Anyone who's been watching the two of you can see how much you both want this. There's no way he's letting you get away from him."

"You think so?" she asked, sounding more hopeful than she felt.

"Yes," he said simply. "Talk to him. I'm telling you—it'll be fine. Now, can I please tell you about this really weird date I had the other night? I need a woman's perspective," he pleaded.

"Yes,_ please_," she urged him. "I need something else to think about or I'll never make it through this day."

Andy managed to plod through the rest of her shift in a daze. Her resolve from the morning had worn off the moment Sam brushed her off and she realized how much she'd hurt him before they'd even started. It seemed like every minute that went by without her being able to set the record straight drove a deeper wedge between them. She just hoped that when she finally got the chance to talk to him it wouldn't be too late. Chris seemed to think she still had a chance, and she had to hope he was right.

Unfortunately, as she soon found out, locating Sam was going to be one of the biggest hurdles. She'd hoped to catch him at the end of the day, but by the time she and Chris got back to the station, his truck was gone from the parking lot. She tried to call him, but her calls went straight to voicemail. She stopped by the Penny after leaving the station, and he wasn't there either. It was a long shot, but she didn't know where else to look for him, and her anxiety was increasing.

Finally, she ended up at his house. He wasn't home, but she hadn't expected to find him there either. That would have been too easy. So she settled down to wait for him on the front steps, hoping he wouldn't be too long but willing to wait as long as it took. She was determined to at least try to make things right between them.

* * *

Sam drove around the city, trying to focus his thoughts enough to consider his next move. His first impulse was to get out - just pick up any new assignment Boyd would throw his way and take off. That's what he would've done in the past if life had become too tough to handle. All he had to do was make the call. Within a few days he'd be living the life of someone else, and his problems would be safely buried beneath a new identity.

Sam picked up his phone and allowed his finger to hover over Boyd's name as he considered what to do. The phone rang, and he sent the call straight through to voicemail when he saw Andy's name pop up on the screen. It was the third time she'd called, and he wasn't any more willing to talk to her after three calls than he had been the first time. Sam knew he was hiding from her and that it wasn't the most mature thing he'd ever done. He just didn't want to give her the chance to pull him back under her spell. He was tired of playing whatever game they were playing, and he knew that if he talked to her he would eventually cave in and allow himself to get roped back into whatever dysfunctional situation they were creating for themselves.

Before he could second guess himself, Sam scrolled through his contact list and hit Send. The phone barely rang twice before it was answered. "Boyd. It's Swarek," he said stiffly.

"I was wondering when I'd be hearing from you, Sammy. Actually took a little longer than expected," Boyd remarked, sounding just as shifty as always.

"I've had some stuff going on."

Somehow managing to sound mildly concerned, Boyd asked, "Is everything okay?"

"Yeah. It's fine," Sam answered automatically, realizing his response was far from the truth.

"Good. Good. You ready to get back out there, man?"

Silence greeted Boyd's question. Sam desperately wanted to tell Boyd he was ready to go. All he had to do was pull the trigger and Boyd would take care of the rest. And yet he was hesitating.

"Sammy? You there? I asked if you were ready to take on a new gig," Boyd persisted.

Hearing Boyd ask the question for a second time only confused Sam even more. His tongue felt thick, and he started to sweat. And that's when he knew for sure that he couldn't do it.

"No," he told Boyd abruptly. "Never mind."

"_What?_ Sammy, what the fu-"

Sam ended the call and threw his phone across the truck angrily, mad at himself for not being able to tell Boyd yes. If it had been two months before, he would've gone without hesitation. But since he'd come back, things had changed. _He_ had changed, and he wasn't altogether sure that it was a change for the better. All Sam knew was that the old way of dealing with things, which would have been to get away and become someone or something else, was no longer going to work for him. And that left him in limbo, not knowing what to do.

For the time being, the only decision he could make with any clarity was to go home and lock himself up in his house. No phone calls. No visits. No "anything" until he figured out what his next move was going to be. So at the next intersection, he made a u-turn and headed for home.

* * *

Andy had been waiting for almost an hour when Sam's truck finally pulled up in front of his house. Her heart started beating frantically as she stood up and wiped her sweaty palms against her jeans. For at least thirty seconds, there was no movement inside the truck, causing Andy to wonder if he might be planning to crank the ignition and take off again. Finally, however, he got out and walked toward his front steps, wearing an impassive expression on his face that blatantly announced his intention to walk right by her without stopping.

Not willing to let him get away again, Andy stepped into his path. "Sam. Stop," she demanded forcefully, determined to break through his resolve and force him to listen.

He paused in front of her, adopting a rigid stance that reminded Andy of a caged animal ready to spring forward as soon as an escape route presented itself. His features were hardened and unreadable, and he avoided eye contact by focusing on a point just above her head.

"I ended things with Jeff," she blurted out, wanting to put it out there before she lost her opportunity yet again. "And I'm sorry I didn't do it sooner."

His breathing became slow and methodical, and she could see the muscles in his face and neck relax. Still, he eyed her warily, maintaining an aloof demeanor that told Andy to keep her distance.

"Sam, you and me . . . it's all so new, and I wasn't expecting it. I didn't handle it well, but I've never been in a situation like this before. I've never had these feelings for anyone. It scared me. The idea of you and me together scares me."

"Do you even know what you want?" he questioned her as he ran his hand through his hair in frustration. His tone was subdued, and Andy hated how discouraged he sounded.

"Yes." Her answer was immediate. Now that she had jumped off the cliff she was sure that what she was doing was right. She'd known what she wanted for a while, but saying it out loud felt really good. She was still afraid of being hurt, but she was more afraid of losing him. "I want us."

"How am I supposed to believe that?" he responded sarcastically. "This time last night you were with another guy," he reminded her with a scowl.

"I wasn't," she said, glaring at him impatiently. "And if you'd given me the chance to explain before barreling away in your truck, I would've told you that the reason I missed the party—the reason Jeff was at my apartment last night—was because I was breaking up with him."

Sam looked at her dubiously, and she could see that most of his anger had been replaced by uncertainty and skepticism. "Sam, I get that you're frustrated with me for taking so long to end things with Jeff. And I understand if you need some time to think about this. Just say so. I'll wait," she said simply. Now that the truth was out there, she felt calmer.

Sensing that his mood had softened, Andy took a step toward him and laid a tentative hand on his chest to test the waters. When he didn't flinch or move away, she inched forward, holding his gaze. He was still staring at her cautiously, but he wasn't pushing her away. Andy took a chance and leaned in, allowing her lips to flutter across his in a light, airy kiss that left her feeling giddy and weightless. She drew back, chewing on her bottom lip as the corners of her mouth tugged upwards into a satisfied smile.

Andy knew Sam was still hesitant about what was happening, and she thought that made sense. After all, in his mind, she'd only been single for five minutes. She grinned at him as she slowly stepped back. "I know this is a lot to take in all at once. But I meant what I said. I can wait. Because I have a feeling that _this_," she explained, motioning between the two of them, "is going to be amazing. And I can wait for amazing."

Andy turned on her heel and walked down the sidewalk with a renewed spring in her step. When she looked back over her shoulder, she saw that Sam hadn't moved. He seemed calmer, and a contemplative look had settled on his face. Feeling happy and hopeful, Andy smiled to herself as she rounded the corner and lost sight of him.

* * *

A split-second after Andy dropped out of sight, Sam pulled himself together enough to question his sanity for letting her walk away. In an effort to kick-start his brain, he scrubbed his hands over his face. In the span of five minutes, everything had changed. Frustration and anger were slowly being replaced by optimism and anticipation as he thought of the new reality that faced him. Instead of an ending, he was now looking at the possibility of a beginning, and as much as his ego wanted to make Andy wait, there was no way he was letting her get away from him now that he knew she was available.

He dropped down to the same step where Andy had been sitting when he drove up, grappling with the notion that things were finally falling into place. In an instant, he was reaching into his pocket for his phone, thankful that it survived the outburst in the truck. When his hand locked around it, he yanked it out and feverishly typed, _No more waiting. Dinner tomorrow night? I'll cook._

He hit Send and waited for her to respond. Not more than thirty seconds passed before his phone beeped, signaling an incoming text. Looking down at her response, he smiled. _That was fast. I guess playing hard to get isn't really your thing.__  
_


	11. Chapter 11

**So this is just one lonely little chapter - no doubleheader this time. **

**A couple of people mentioned that they felt bad for Jeff. I think he'll be fine. There's this teacher at his school who has a massive crush on him. Now that he's single, she'll probably start hanging around more, and eventually, it will occur to him that he should ask her out. He'll realize she's the perfect woman for him and he'll kick himself for not noticing her sooner. They will, of course, live happily ever after. :)**

**FYI - I guess I mentioned at the outset that this story was going to be 14 to 16 chapters long, but it looks like the final tally will be 17 or 18 chapters plus a big whopper of an Epilogue (seriously, it's a long one).  
**

**Thanks for reading!**

* * *

Sam got to Parade early and found a seat on one of several tables that had been pushed against the back wall. When he caught himself swinging his legs, he quickly stopped. The biggest challenge, however, was suppressing the grin that threatened to swallow his face. When Andy walked through the door, he finally gave up and let it loose, thankful that he was at least able to dial it back to a respectably smug smile.

She hopped up on the table and bumped shoulders with him, dropping her head self-consciously as she returned his smile. "Hi."

"Morning, McNally," he greeted her, turning around to pick up two coffees he had hidden behind his back in case Oliver came in before Andy. He passed one of them to her and nudged her leg with his.

"You got me coffee?" she asked happily.

"Just the way you like it," he confirmed. "Box of sugar, carton of cream and a trace amount of coffee."

"Ha ha." She smirked at him, closing her eyes as she took her first sip. "Perfect."

"Yeah," he agreed as he looked at her. When she opened her eyes, he leaned toward her conspiratorially. "Got any big plans for tonight?"

"Yep," Andy answered casually as if she were talking to Traci. "Going out with a new guy, so we'll see . . . ."

"Sounds promising."

"I guess," she said with a shrug. "He makes a pretty decent cup of coffee. Gotta give him that. How about you? Anything interesting on tonight's agenda?"

"Not really." He laughed when Andy punched him lightly on the upper arm. "Actually, I am cooking dinner for someone tonight."

"Anyone I know?" she asked with an arched eyebrow.

"That depends. Do you know Carol from the evidence room?"

She laughed a little too loudly and several people seated near the front of the room turned to look at them. "Sorry," she mouthed at them, biting back a grin. "So tell me . . . should _Carol _bring anything tonight?"

"Not a thing," he assured her.

"Bottle of wine it is, then."

"I hope you're not planning to ply me with alcohol and try to take advantage of me," he warned her.

"Maybe," she said noncommittally as her eyes danced with amusement. "I guess we'll have to see how the night goes."

Sam's mouth suddenly went dry. His first thought was that she had no idea what she was doing to him when she lobbed a suggestion like that his way. Then he noticed that her eyes had suddenly gotten very serious and he wondered if perhaps she did know what she was saying. Thankfully, Frank came in and Sam was able to force his thoughts away from what "seeing how the night goes" might entail.

When Parade ended, he followed her out of the room. They weren't riding together—she was with Oliver and he was with Epstein—but he stayed by her side, nonetheless, on the way out to the parking lot. While they walked, they occasionally brushed up against each other, and Sam realized a little separation during their shift was going to be a good thing. He didn't even want to think about what would happen if they were trapped in a car together all day.

"I might not see you after shift if you beat it out of here like you did last night," she teased him. "So what time tonight?"

"Cute, McNally," he responded with a scowl that was barely worth the effort because it quickly dissolved. He was too happy to even pretend to be annoyed with her. "Why don't we say seven-ish. If you want, you can ride home with me."

"No, that's okay. I need to go home and change, so I'll just meet you at your place," she told him as they approached Oliver. He was leaning against the passenger door of the squad car with a coffee in one hand and a muffin in the other.

Oliver eyed them suspiciously. "What's with you two?"

"What do you mean?" Sam asked innocently.

"You just seem so - I don't know - _friendly_," he suggested with a hint of sarcasm.

"The last time I checked, there was nothing wrong with that," Sam observed with a shrug. "McNally's my friend. I'm her friend. We're _friendly_."

"Nevermind, Brother. You're useless," Oliver said with a dismissive wave of the hand that was holding the muffin. "I've got a whole day in the car with McNally, and she's bound to get chatty." He balanced the muffin on top of his coffee cup and opened the car door, somehow managing not to drop the coffee or the muffin. "You're driving," he informed her needlessly.

As Andy made a move in the direction of the driver's side of the car, Sam reached out a hand and squeezed her shoulder lightly. "See you later. Have a good shift."

"You, too." She fired off a killer grin that Sam knew he'd have on replay in his head for the rest of the day.

* * *

"Beer and two bottles of wine. Maybe you _are_ planning to take advantage of me," Sam said as he checked out the contents of the grocery bag Andy was holding out to him.

"No, that's not why," she claimed hastily, blushing as she shook her head in denial.

"Hey, I didn't say I'd necessarily have a problem with that."

"I didn't know what you were cooking, so I got a bottle of red, a bottle of white and beer. I probably should've just called to ask," she admitted.

"Come on back," he said as he motioned toward the kitchen with his head. "Hope you like steak."

"Steak's great," she assured him as she set down the grocery bag on the counter and looked around the room. "I've gotta say, I didn't expect you to be such a neat freak in the kitchen." Other than a bowl with steak marinating in it and a cutting board with some veggies on top, the room was in pretty decent shape.

"Clean up as you go," he told her confidently, trying not to think about his feverish cleaning spree five minutes before she arrived. "I was just about to start the grill. Be right back."

"I'll put this in the refrigerator," she said as she lifted the six-pack out of the bag.

When Sam came back into the kitchen, he smiled at the sight of Andy crouched in front of his refrigerator, rearranging its contents to accommodate the beer. He liked seeing her in his environment, and that was something he'd never felt with a woman before. He came up behind her, boxing her in with one arm on the open refrigerator door while he waited for her to stand up. When she finally managed to wedge the six-pack between a carton of orange juice and a gallon of milk, Andy backed up and let out a squeal as she bumped up against him. Whirling around, she smiled nervously at him. They were standing impossibly close to each other. Her eyes did a quick search of Sam's face, raking across his features until she finally locked eyes with him. Her breath quickened as she mirrored the seriousness of his gaze, and Sam put his left hand on the side of her face, searching for a sign that she was okay with what was about to happen between them.

"I've been wanting to do this all day," he muttered as he tilted his head subtly and moved closer to her.

"Me, too," she breathed. "Not just today, though."

That was all the encouragement Sam needed. He brought his right hand to the other side of her face, gradually sliding it into her hair as he gently pulled her toward him. Sam's lips found hers, and his brain frantically tried to process all of the sensations that were coming at him at once. The warmth and sweetness of her breath on his skin, the softness of her lips against his, the smoothness of her cheeks and the silkiness of her hair in his hands . . . . It all blended together as he became overwhelmed by his need for her.

He felt Andy's arms slide around his neck, pulling him toward her and closing the tiny gap that remained between them. She rested her hands lightly on the back of his neck, absently running her fingers through his hair. As their mouths moved together hypnotically, every fiber in Sam's body was on fire. He sank deeper and deeper into the kiss, everything else around them having been forgotten as one minute turned to two and then to three. Finally, by tacit agreement, they pulled apart and he rested his forehead against hers.

"Cold?" he asked, and a deep laugh resonated in his chest at the realization that he had her pushed up against an open refrigerator.

"Not even a little bit," she responded as she shook her head against his. Sam couldn't see her mouth, but her eyes were smiling at him playfully.

He grinned and pulled her away from the refrigerator, kicking the door closed with his foot. "Let me just go out and put the steak on the grill. Be right back."

"I can help," she offered. Without giving him the chance to decline, she followed him out onto the deck, shivering when the cool evening air of early fall hit her.

"I think I can handle a couple of steaks and a grill, McNally," he said as he opened the lid and slid the steaks onto the rack.

"So I've heard," she informed him. "Oliver says you're a pretty good cook."

"I wouldn't exactly say that," he laughed, hoping Oliver hadn't overestimated his culinary skills. "Most guys know their way around a grill." Sam looked over his shoulder at Andy. She was leaning against the deck railing watching him. Having her there in his house seemed so surreal. Swallowing the lump that was rising in his throat, he remarked, "So you've been talking to Oliver about me . . . ."

"I was riding around in a car with him all day today. You were bound to come up."

Closing the lid of the grill, he came over and leaned against the railing beside her. "What else did Oliver say?"

"Not much . . . ." Andy trailed off. When he looked at her skeptically, she quickly assured him, "Nothing bad."

"That's informative."

"Okay, okay . . . he thinks we'd be good together," she admitted, blushing as she said it.

"He's not the only one." He leaned toward her and tipped her chin up with his finger, kissing her lightly. "Come on. Let's go sauté some vegetables."

"Wow. Sauté," she giggled at his choice of words.

"Impressed?" he asked her as they walked back into the kitchen.

"Definitely."

* * *

"Okay, this is some seriously good steak, Sam," Andy complemented him in between bites as she eyed him from across the table. "Do you cook a lot?"

"When I can. You don't eat a lot of four squares when you're undercover, so I try to do a better job of it when I'm home. Most nights, though, I'm so tired after work that I just get takeout," he confessed.

"Good. Then I don't feel so bad about all the containers of leftover Chinese food in my refrigerator."

Sam kicked her foot beneath the table and Andy smiled as she looked up from her food at him. She reached across and took one of his hands, rubbing her thumb back and forth across the back of his it as they ate. Feeling frustrated, Sam nudged her foot again. He didn't like having her all the way across the table from him. Apparently, Andy was feeling the same way, because she suddenly stood up, surprising Sam as she slid her plate across the table and settled into the chair beside his.

"Better," she decided, taking another bite of her dinner. "How was your day?"

"Not too bad, considering I had Epstein in the car with me for an entire shift."

"Dov's a good guy," Andy said objectively.

"Didn't say he wasn't," Sam pointed out. "He just talks too much. It's like a rolling commentary on everything from the latest fashion statement at the local high school to his mother's second cousin's divorce."

"It's his mother's first cousin," Andy corrected him with a laugh. "And I talk too much, too."

"Sometimes," he agreed, "but you're a lot cuter than he is. And anyway, I hardly remember what it's like to work with you because it's been so long since Frank let us ride together." He rolled his eyes as he forked some vegetables into his mouth.

"No kidding. It's been more than a week. Do you think he's doing it on purpose?"

"Probably," Sam responded thoughtfully. "I mean, you did get caught flirting with me during Parade a few days ago."

"Ugh. Don't remind me," she groaned. "What if you're right? He could be trying to teach us a lesson."

"Wouldn't be the first time," Sam said casually.

"You probably shouldn't sit near me in Parade anymore," she suggested suddenly. "And we should avoid talking to each other at work."

He raised an eyebrow at her. "You don't want me to talk to you at all?"

"Don't you want to be partnered with me again?" she asked in a heightened tone that made Sam smile. He loved watching her when she was worked up about something.

"Well, good luck not talking to me," he baited her, hoping to get even more of a rise out of her.

"You don't think I can do it?" she questioned him, becoming more animated at the prospect of a challenge.

"I am kind of irresistible," he noted smugly.

As Andy was winding up for the next round, Sam's phone rang and he picked it up off of the table. He glanced at the screen and saw his sister's name. "I need to take this," he told her seriously. The conversation that followed was filled with stops and starts and assurances from him that everything was going to be all right.

After several minutes, he ended the call and sighed. "That was Sarah."

"Is everything okay?"

"Not really." He shook his head and ran his hand back and forth across his neck as he thought about his next course of action. "I really hate to do this, but I think I have to cut this short."

"That's fine," she agreed easily.

"It's not fine," he said, trying to keep a lid on his irritation, "but my sister needs help. She's pretty upset. She and Alex had a fight, and he took off. He was mad when he left, and she's worried about where he might go."

"So you're going out to look for him?" Andy asked.

"I guess. That's what she wants me to do. She's staying at her apartment in case he comes home."

"Let's go, then," Andy said, already moving toward the front door.

"Andy, let me take you home. This isn't your problem."

"Come on. We're partners. Who knows where you might find him, and you may need backup. Besides, you said it yourself . . . it's been more than a week since we rode together. Here's your chance," she urged him.

"Fine. Let's go," he agreed reluctantly, picking up his keys and following her out of the house.

* * *

"Okay, so according to Sarah's list, it should be the next house on the right." Andy looked out her window, squinting against the darkness, as Sam pulled up in front of a small house that looked like it was in serious need of some landscaping and basic maintenance. Sarah had texted Sam the addresses of several of Alex's friends' houses, as well as a list of suggestions for other places where he might be if those didn't pan out. So Andy and Sam were driving around the city working through the list, hoping to find Alex at one of the addresses, or at the very least, talk to someone who might know where he was.

"Hopefully we have better luck at this one than the first two," Sam reflected. The first two addresses on Sarah's list had been dead-ends, so they'd moved on to the third house. Sam cut the engine and looked out the window. "Doesn't look promising." The house was dark, and there were no cars parked in the short driveway.

"We should probably check it out anyway," Andy said as she unbuckled her seat belt and slid out onto the sidewalk. She was halfway up the walkway by the time Sam got out and made his way around the front of the truck.

"Hey, McNally. Wait up," he hissed through the darkness.

Sam caught up with her on the front porch just as she was raising her hand to knock on the door. Suddenly she stopped and inhaled deeply. She looked over her shoulder at him and whispered, "Do you smell what I smell?"

"Yeah. Smells like a skunk sprayed the house," he groaned, cutting his eyes toward the side of the house and thinking that an errant skunk would be the least of their problems. With Andy close on his heels, he slipped back out onto the lawn and followed the smell toward the side yard. As they rounded the corner of the house, Sam looked back at Andy. "Stay behind me," he said in a loud whisper.

The smell seemed to be coming from a small, dilapidated shed behind the house. Trying to make as little noise as possible, they followed a well-worn path through the tall grass up to what appeared to be the only door. Beside the door, a light was shining through a grimy window with a crack running diagonally from corner to corner, and as they approached it, they could hear the sound of a radio and several muffled voices. Sam peered through the thin film of dust caked on the window, almost immediately pulling back and shaking his head in frustration.

"He's in there with two other guys," he informed her in a clipped tone.

"Should we knock or just go in?" Andy wondered out loud. Sam almost laughed at the absurdity of the situation. He wasn't sure what was weirder - the fact that his first date with Andy had evolved into a search for his pot-smoking nephew or that it all seemed completely status quo to Andy. As she moved stealthily toward the door and made a knocking motion with her hand, he decided it was the latter. He knew that if he hadn't already recognized how amazing she was, it would have been confirmed in that moment.

"I'll do it." He stepped forward and rapped loudly on the door, prompting an immediate flurry of activity on the other side. "Alex, it's me," Sam announced gruffly.

Through the door, they heard a teenage voice moan, "It's my uncle."

Sam turned the knob and pushed open the door, shaking his head when he realized they hadn't even bothered to lock it. As his eyes adjusted to the dim light, he blinked rapidly in the thick haze of smoke that greeted him. Beside him, Andy looked almost comical as she held her breath and tried not to breathe in the fumes.

"Who invited the adults?" came the slightly slurred inquiry from a red-headed kid with pants that were five sizes too large for him. Thanks to Epstein's fashion commentary earlier that day, Sam was in possession of the knowledge that the pants were probably pretty cool among the teenage set, and the fact that he knew that at all only increased his annoyance.

Sam aimed a hard look at the kid standing beside the redhead. He had dark brown hair that fell to his shoulders, and he was wearing a harried expression. "That's not an adult. It's my uncle," the kid groaned. "He's a cop."

A third kid - the scruffiest of the three - had been lounging in a collapsible chair in the corner, completely unfazed by Sam and Andy's presence. As soon as he processed what Alex had just said, he bolted upright and quickly tossed a joint behind the chair. "Yo man, your uncle's a cop?!"

Thankfully, Alex and the redhead had nothing in their hands, although it was fairly obvious that they'd had something at some point.

"Who's that?" the redhead asked, staring at Andy. "She's _hot_."

Sam rolled his eyes and barked, "Alex, let's go. _Now_."

"I can't believe she sent you to get me," Alex grumbled as he trudged toward the door. Sam followed behind him, motioning for Andy to exit first.

As Andy turned to leave, the scruffy kid in the chair addressed her directly. "Hey, why don't _you_ stay here with us?"

She scowled on her way out of the shed. "Not even if you were ten years older and five joints closer to being lucid," she called back over her shoulder.

The truck was completely quiet as Sam pulled away from the house. Alex had apparently selected silence as his weapon of choice. From time to time, Sam glanced in the rear view mirror, only to see Alex glowering at him from the back seat. A look over at Andy gave away the fact that she was stifling a yawn as her head lolled against the back of the seat.

"I'm taking you home before I drop off Alex at Sarah's," he informed her. "It's probably gonna take a while over there."

"That's fine," she responded, sounding tired. "This is family business. I get it."

"It's not that," he said immediately. "You shouldn't have to be out dealing with this. It's late, and you're tired."

"Sam, it's fine," she assured him again in a soothing tone. She slid her arm across the center console and rested it on his leg. "Will you be okay?"

"Me?" he questioned her. "Yeah, McNally. I'll be fine," he said, chuckling to himself. It had been a long time since anyone other than his sister had worried about him. Normally, it would have irritated him if someone had suggested that he might be less than "okay," but when the concern came from Andy, he decided it wasn't so bad.

"So are you guys, like, together?" Alex piped up from the back seat.

"No talking," Sam growled.

"So now I'm not even allowed to _talk_?" Alex fired back.

"Only if you're apologizing to your mother. Otherwise, you should be busy _thinking_ about apologizing to your mother."

"Whatever," Alex mumbled sullenly.

When they pulled up outside of Andy's apartment, she unbuckled her seat belt and looked over at Sam.

Alex's voice floated up from the back seat again. "I can get out and give you guys some privacy if you want."

Sam rolled his eyes. "I'll talk to you tomorrow," he told Andy, reaching over and squeezing her hand as she opened the door.

"I had a nice time," she said weakly.

His response was a mixture of sarcasm and bitterness. "This was a great first date, wasn't it?"

"The first part _was _great," she said vehemently. "And the second part was okay, too. Definitely a first for me. Bye Alex," she called toward the back seat.

"Sorry I ruined your date," Alex responded remorsefully.

"That's enough," Sam grumbled.

"What do you want me to do . . . be rude to your girlfriend?" Alex quipped.

Andy sent Sam a reassuring smile as she closed the door and headed up the walkway to her building. As worried about his nephew and sister as he was, somehow, knowing that she was in his corner made him feel a tiny bit better.


	12. Chapter 12

**Thanks again for all of the support. Everyone on here has been so fantastic. It's definitely easier to keep the momentum going when you know people are actually reading what you're writing. **

* * *

Sam woke up and squinted at the clock beside his bed. He groaned loudly when he realized it was almost noon. Picking up his phone, he saw a missed call from Andy and realized he must have been sleeping pretty heavily if the ringer didn't wake him up. He scrolled down to her number and hit Send, willing the sleep from his voice as he waited for her to pick up.

"Hi," she answered just after the second ring. "Everything okay?"

"It's fine," he sighed.

"Did you just wake up? You sound tired."

"Yeah. I didn't get back from dropping off Alex until after five a.m. I couldn't leave them until I was sure they'd be okay," he explained groggily.

"Was it bad?" she asked.

"A lot of yelling. And he's grounded until he's fifty-two. By the time I left, though, he was apologizing to Sarah and they seemed okay. I know it's hard to believe, but he actually is a good kid."

"I got that," Andy assured him immediately. "Seems like he's just having a hard time."

"He is. Being a teenager isn't easy under normal circumstances, and with Sarah working all the time and no Dad in the picture, it makes things even harder."

"He's got you," Andy pointed out.

"Yeah, he's got me. It's not the same, though."

"I know," she acknowledged, "but it's something. One day he'll realize how lucky he is."

"We can only hope," Sam agreed wryly. "So McNally, if you don't have plans for the afternoon, I was thinking you might want to help me salvage what's left of our day off . . . ."

"I can't," she said, sounding disappointed. "I'm dog-sitting for a friend of my Dad's. I'm actually heading over in a little while to go over some last-minute instructions and get settled in. But you could come over later, if you want."

"I can do that," he agreed readily, not unhappy about the opportunity to pull in a few more hours of sleep before he saw her.

* * *

"Whose place is this?" Sam asked later that evening as he scoped out the house where Andy was dog-sitting.

"A friend of my Dad's from over at 27. He and his wife retired a few years ago, and now they spend most of their time traveling."

"So you must dog-sit for them a lot," Sam commented as he moved slowly around the living room, inspecting several prints on one of the walls.

"This is actually the first time," she admitted. "I don't really know them that well. Their regular person fell through, so my Dad called and asked if I'd do it." She hesitated before adding, "Actually, in the interest of disclosure, I do kind of know their son. We went out on a couple of dates before I met Jeff."

"Anything serious?" He turned away from the artwork and caught her eye. He was mildly interested in anyone from her past but had to assume that the relationship hadn't meant very much or she'd still be with the guy.

"Nah. It never really went anywhere. The chemistry wasn't right, and to be honest, he was kind of boring," Andy conceded, wrinkling her nose. "He's a detective over at 27 like his Dad was."

"Do I know him?"

"Maybe," Andy responded with a shrug. "Luke Callaghan?"

Sam shook his head. "Guess we've never crossed paths. Do you ever bump into him?"

"Rarely," she said. "He got married last year. His wife's a detective, too. Her name's Jo. She's nice enough, but I've always gotten the feeling that she doesn't like me very much."

"Probably because you went out with her husband," Sam suggested with a smirk. "This is a pretty nice place, McNally. If you have to spend a week hanging out with someone's dog, I guess it could be worse."

"Yeah, it's not too bad," Andy reflected, looking around at all of the windows and shiny surfaces. "A little modern for my taste, though."

Sam's feet came to rest in front of the fireplace. A fire was already blazing, kicking out a warm glow into the room as the sun went down and the house cooled off. "What's all this?" he asked, motioning to a pile of pillows scattered around on a thick rug in front of the fire.

"I was reading," she informed him, pointing to a book laying face down on the rug, "and I got cold, so I started a fire. This place must be a nightmare in the winter with all the windows. I mean, it's only early fall and it's already pretty chilly in here."

"So you built a fire," he noted. "Impressive."

"Not exactly," she admitted sheepishly, walking over and flipping a switch on the wall beside the fireplace. The fire went out. She flipped it again and it flickered, flaring up again as quickly as it had disappeared. "Gas logs."

"Even better. No hauling in wood from the backyard. Where's the dog?"

"Polly," Andy offered up, moving toward the kitchen. "She's passed out on her mat. She's really sweet but kind of old. And unfortunately, not much of a watchdog . . . . She didn't even flinch when you rang the doorbell. Do you want to meet her?"

"Sure," he said easily, following Andy out of the room. In one corner of the kitchen, a large black lab was lying belly-up on an oversized plaid dog bed. "Are you sure she's alive?" he asked as he nudged the dog bed with his foot.

"I think so," Andy said, sounding unconcerned. When Sam looked at her skeptically, she laughed. "Yes, she's alive. She's just really old."

"Okay, McNally. If you're sure. I just hope this night doesn't end with the two of us strong-arming that dog into the back of my truck to rush her to the vet. So far, we don't have very good luck when it comes to finishing our dates," he pointed out.

"Well, I think our luck is going to change," she predicted as she walked over to him and slid her hands into his.

"You do?" he asked quietly. She was close enough that he could feel her breath on his cheek. "You seem pretty confident about that."

"I am," Andy said with a knowing smile. "See, I was thinking we could watch a movie, maybe order some dinner and you know ..."

"What's 'you know?' That sounds interesting."

"It is," she assured him, drawing him in with her gaze just before her lips grazed lightly across his.

Sam let his hands glide up to her elbows as he pulled her against him and in so doing, he noticed goose bumps on her arms. He pulled back and tugged her behind him with their joined hands, leading her back toward the living room. "It's warmer in the other room," he offered by way of an explanation. Besides, he wanted to be comfortable and standing in a cold kitchen with a lethargic dog watching their every move wasn't exactly his idea of comfortable.

Bypassing the couch, Sam settled down in front of the fireplace instead. As he sank down into the plush thickness of the rug, he quickly decided that it wasn't so bad. He could understand why she'd been hanging out in front of the fire when he showed up.

When Sam attempted to pull her down with him and she didn't budge, he looked up at her curiously. "What's wrong?"

Andy laughed and dropped to her knees beside him. "It's just that I don't see you as the kind of guy who relaxes on a rug in front of a fire," she observed.

"Where do you see me relaxing then?" he challenged her.

"I don't know. A couch. Maybe some big, pimped-out man chair . . . ."

"A pimped-out man chair?" He drew back and narrowed his eyes at her. "Hey, I enjoy a well-built fire just as much as the next guy. Or, in this case, a fire that you turned on with a switch."

Sam leaned back on the pillows and propped himself up on an elbow. He drew her toward him by the hand, and she slid down onto her side with a gentle fluidity that had him longing to bring her even closer.

"Maybe we should skip the movie," she suggested as her eyes zeroed in on his mouth. The grin that she produced was equal parts encouraging and challenging.

"Maybe we should," Sam agreed in a barely-audible whisper. He brushed her hair back over her shoulder, slowly letting it sift through his fingers. With his other hand on her cheek, he lowered his head and kissed her softly, setting an intoxicatingly slow pace as he lost himself in the heady sensation of knowing that they finally had the freedom to act on their feelings. Slipping one hand beneath the hem of her shirt, he traced a smooth path from Andy's stomach to her upper back and pulled her up against him. Other than the crackling of the fire and an occasional sharp intake of breath, the room was steeped in silence as he found himself drifting deeper and deeper into the kiss.

Gradually, Andy's lips stilled against Sam's and she rolled onto her back, locking eyes with him for a split second before pushing up on her elbows. Smiling alluringly at him, she reached down and tugged at the bottom of her shirt, exposing an increasingly larger swath of skin as she slid it up and tossed it carelessly to the side. Propping himself up beside her, Sam took in the sight of her lightly-tousled hair and paused as he swallowed around the lump forming in his throat. He drew in a breath and held it as his gaze swept the length of her and he gently splayed his fingers over her stomach, lightly rubbing skin that was buttery soft and warm to the touch. Seemingly unimpressed by the delay, Andy fisted her hands in his shirt and crooked a leg around his waist, dragging him on top of her. As she traced his jawline with a series of soft, feathery kisses, she slipped her hands underneath his shirt, signaling to him that she wanted to see it laying crumpled on the floor beside her own. He quickly complied, pulling back only enough to take it off and toss it away. Sam ran one of his hands down a strand of her hair as he hovered over her, appreciating the significance of the moment, before gently tucking it behind her ear and sliding into a series of long, ragged kisses.

Later, they lay in front of the fireplace with a blanket tossed haphazardly on top of them. From behind, Sam's arms were wrapped securely around Andy as she drew in deep, even breaths, giving every indication that she had slipped off to sleep. With his hands clasped lightly around her midsection, he drew her in even closer to him, unable to get enough of the soft warmth of her skin against his. Nuzzling into the space between her neck and shoulder, he kissed her lightly.

When Andy rotated slowly in his arms and her face came to rest a mere breathing distance from his own, Sam realized he'd been mistaken about her being asleep. Her lips sought his immediately, dragging them both into a long, painstakingly slow kiss. The fire popped and sizzled behind them as the flames reflected off of the smooth surfaces in the room. Sam pulled Andy against him and melted into her. Somewhere deep within him he already knew he'd never be able to satisfy his need for her, and as she poured herself into kissing him, he suspected it was the same for her, too.

Hours passed and they slipped in and out of sleep, neither relinquishing their hold on the other. Each time Sam awakened, he took in his surroundings and the sight of her sleeping against him before dropping back off again. At one point while he was watching her sleep, Andy stirred and her eyes suddenly opened, blinking as she focused on him. She bent her arm and rested her head on it, regarding him thoughtfully. "What were you thinking that day when I got shot?"

He raised an eyebrow at her. "That's definitely not what I expected to come out of your mouth," he said with a laugh as he ran a finger across her bottom lip.

"I'm just curious. What was going through your mind?" she asked casually. "We've never really talked about it."

Sam assumed a more serious expression as he licked his lips and gave her question some thought. "Well . . . when you looked at me, I could tell you were scared but working really hard to hold it together. I just wanted to keep anything bad from happening to you . . . do whatever I could to contain the situation. I wanted to protect you," he recalled. "Obviously, that was a bust. I dropped the ball, and you got hurt."

"You couldn't have predicted what would happen, Sam. And you didn't drop the ball. It was out of your control," she told him as she used her free hand to search for his beneath the blanket. When she found it, she brought their joined hands up to rest between them. "For me, I felt a connection when I looked at you. I didn't even know you were a cop then, but when you looked at me, I just knew everything would be okay."

"It wasn't, though," he said with a wry laugh.

"Sure it was. We're here now, and everything's fine," she said in a soothing tone.

Sam swallowed as he regarded her with intensity. As hard as it had been for him to deal with her being shot when he didn't know her, the idea of not being able to protect her now was far worse. Now that she was his, Sam knew he would never be able to keep her safe enough, and he wasn't sure how to come to terms with that.

As if she were reading his mind, Andy said, "You can't always protect everyone. You can't always protect me. Bad things are going to happen, and sometimes you can't do anything to stop them."

"That's a comforting thought," Sam noted, producing a crooked grin as he looked at her. He knew it was something he was going to have to work out on his own; no amount of words was ever going to satisfy his need to keep bad things from happening to the people he loved. "I was there at the hospital the night after you got shot," he said suddenly.

"What do you mean?" she asked as a look of confusion passed across her face.

"I was there," he repeated. "I came to see you the day after you were shot. It was late at night and you were asleep. No one else was around."

"Are you serious?"

"Yes," he laughed. "I wanted to make sure you were okay."

"But you didn't even know me."

"It didn't matter. I was worried about you," he said simply.

Andy was silent as she stared at him with an expression he couldn't read. Sam realized there was a possibility that what he had just told her might freak her out. Finally, she said quietly, "I knew you were there. Or, at least, I knew _someone_ was there."

Sam furrowed his eyebrows at her dubiously. "You were asleep, Andy, and I left before you woke up."

"I just had a feeling someone had been there. When I told my Dad the next morning, he said it was probably just the meds they had me on."

"So you had a feeling," Sam teased her as he slipped both of his arms around her. "Good or bad?"

"Definitely good," she assured him. "Warm, protected . . . kind of like now."

He kissed her forehead and tightened his hold on her. "So it doesn't freak you out that I was there?"

"No. I like knowing that you were there with me. It's nice," she decided aloud.

"Nice," he reiterated. "Well, I can be _very_ nice." She giggled and ran her foot up his calf, grinning at him as she leaned in for a kiss.

"I wasn't snoring or drooling in the hospital, was I?" she mumbled against his mouth.

"Only a little bit," he said with a smile. "But it was kind of cute."

When she laughed at him, he pulled the blanket over their heads and rolled on top of her, thankful that they didn't have to be at work the next morning.

* * *

Andy woke up to a series of wet licks on her ear and a sleepy grin spread across her face. She was disappointed when she opened an eye to find that it was only Polly, ready to be taken outside for her morning bathroom break. Andy groaned quietly as she rolled onto her back, realizing that one definite negative to dog-sitting was that you had to get up at 6 a.m. to deal with the dog. She made a mental note to only agree to cat-sitting in the future.

She looked over at Sam—still sleeping and completely unaware of the 6 o'clock wake up call. Sighing heavily, she slid out from underneath the blanket that was covering them. The first article of clothing that she spotted was Sam's shirt, so she grabbed it and pulled it over her head. Dragging a second blanket off the back of the couch, she draped it around herself and tiptoed toward the kitchen with Polly trailing behind her. Thankfully, the backyard was fenced in, so all she had to do was let Polly out the door and wait for her to scratch or bark when she wanted to be let back in. While Andy waited, she sat on the kitchen counter near the door with her head resting against the cabinets. She knew she should be tired—probably would be later when her adrenaline took a nose dive—but all she could think about was Sam and the night she'd just spent with him. A lazy smile tugged at the corners of her mouth. She felt completely satisfied and fulfilled. It was a sensation she'd never fully known with anyone before, and as she thought about the man lying in front of the fireplace in the other room, her smile grew wider. No one had ever made her feel the way he did. Everything just felt very right for the first time in her life.

"Morning," Sam mumbled, standing across the room wearing only a pair of jeans. "Please tell me you're not an early riser."

"I'm not," she assured him. "But apparently, Polly is."

Sam's hair was sticking up in several places, giving him an aura of innocence. Andy smiled as she acknowledged that looks could be deceiving. She knew from spending the night with him that he was anything but innocent. He shuffled across the kitchen and leaned against her sleepily as she wrapped the blanket around his shoulders and slid her legs around his waist.

"Since we're up, I might as well put on some coffee," she offered as she stifled a yawn. "And find something to eat. I'm starving. We skipped dinner last night, you know."

"Food was pretty low on the list of priorities," Sam reminded her as he dropped his forehead against hers.

Andy smiled happily at him. "I can't believe we slept on the floor all night," she mused.

"My back definitely believes it," he groaned. "Maybe next time we should try out the guest room—or even the couch."

"So you'll come back and visit me while I'm here if I promise you a bed?" Andy asked in a teasing tone.

"McNally, I'd come back and visit you even if I had to sleep on the floor again," he told her, putting his hands on either side of her face and pulling her toward him for a kiss. "Nice shirt," he observed with a grin as he pulled back and wrapped the blanket securely around her. He walked over to the refrigerator and rummaged around, managing to produce a carton of eggs, butter, milk and even some sausage.

Feeling like she should make a contribution, Andy hopped down off of the counter and started working on the coffee. "I think I saw bread in that cabinet," she informed him, pointing to the door beside the refrigerator.

"Eggs, sausage and toast," he stated, holding up the bread triumphantly as he took it out of the cabinet. "Not a bad haul." He opened several large drawers and produced a series of pans, bowls and cooking utensils. "I say we have some breakfast and then maybe check out the bed in the guestroom," he suggested with a yawn. "I'm ready for a nap. You kept me up way past my bedtime."

* * *

"Sam," Andy said softly in his ear. When he didn't budge, she became more persistent, chanting, "Get up, get up, get up," quietly as she slid into bed beside him. She'd already gotten up to deal with Polly and was surprised when she came back into the guest room and found him still sleeping.

"Mmmm," he moaned as he snaked an arm underneath her and pulled her on top of him.

"No time for that," she said, a little less firmly than she'd intended. "We have to be at work soon. And besides, we spent all day in bed yesterday, so now it's time to get up."

"That's an exaggeration. We didn't spend _all_ day in bed," he said groggily. "We got up and took a shower, watched a movie, played with the dog—"

"And went back to bed," she finished.

"Well, it's a nice bed," he insisted.

"Come on. Get up," she ordered him, sitting up and attempting to pull him with her.

"Here's a thought," he mumbled. "If we shower together we'll save time, which means we have a few more minutes before we have to start moving."

"You've got that all worked out, haven't you?" she teased him.

"Yep." He pulled her down on top of him and wrapped her tightly in his arms.

"Sam, you do realize you haven't been home since the day before yesterday, don't you?" she questioned him. "And unless I'm mistaken, you came over here in the same clothes you were wearing at work three days ago."

"So? I just grabbed something and threw it on. I was too tired to put much thought into it. I'm assuming you remember that I'd been up all night at my sister's place, right?"

"So you're okay with showing up at work wearing the same clothes you were wearing the last time you were there? You know what that might imply . . . ."

"People aren't that interested in what I wear to work, McNally. I doubt they'll even notice."

* * *

When they were a block away from the station, Andy looked over at Sam and asked, "So how do you want to do this?"

"Do what?"

"Us," she clarified. "Should we keep it quiet or should we just own it?"

"McNally, our friends and co-workers are not that interested in what's going on in our lives," he informed her. "I think we should just do what comes naturally. They probably won't even realize anything has changed."

"If you say so," she agreed hesitantly, not sure that she believed him.

As they were walking across the parking lot, Oliver pulled in and rolled down his window, driving along beside them slowly. "Hey, man. Tried to call you yesterday but you weren't answering. Zoe wanted you to come over for dinner last night."

"Sorry, Brother. I was busy."

"Busy with what?" Oliver persisted.

Sam eyed Oliver suspiciously. "Just busy."

"Seems like we've seen that shirt recently," Oliver observed with an impish smile.

"Don't think so," Sam responded coolly.

"And those jeans look familiar, too."

"All jeans look the same," Sam tossed back at Oliver as he guided Andy toward the door.

Grinning at him, Andy said, "I told you people would notice."

"Oliver's only one person. Besides, I'll be in uniform soon, and it won't matter," he said nonchalantly.

On their way to the locker rooms, they passed Jerry in the hallway. "McNally, Sammy," he greeted them in an upbeat tone. Just before he moved out of earshot, he coughed into his hand and Andy distinctively heard, "Walk of shame."

"Subtle," Sam grumbled as he made a sharp turn into the men's locker room and told Andy he'd "see her in a few."


	13. Chapter 13

**The goal of this chapter was to show some progression of the relationship before moving on to other plot developments. It wasn't actually a part of my original outline, but I decided to drop it in because I felt like it needed to be here. As always, thanks so much for reading and for leaving such nice reviews.**

* * *

"Andy," Gail hissed, motioning wildly from the front desk. Andy aimed a questioning look at Gail as she walked reluctantly toward her sometimes friend.

"Cover me for a few minutes," Gail demanded, not bothering to wait for Andy to agree before she started walking away.

"Why?" Andy asked.

"Just cover me, okay? I really need a coffee or I won't make it through this shift."

"Fine, but make it quick. Traci's waiting for me in the parking lot. We're on park duty today," Andy explained unenthusiastically.

"Better than sitting front and center just waiting for a parade of crazies to walk through the door."

"Maybe you'll have an easy day. No crazies." Andy shrugged at Gail's retreating back.

Someone had left a file sitting on the desk, and Andy thumbed through it absently as she waited for Gail to return. The sudden sound of a throat clearing on the other side of the counter had her looking up from the file into a pair of brilliant green eyes.

"Can I help you?" Andy asked, hoping that the seemingly normal woman in front of her wasn't the first "crazy" of the day.

"I'm looking for Officer Swarek," the owner of the green eyes informed her with an amiable smile. Andy mirrored the gesture uncertainly, wondering how she knew Sam.

"He's out on patrol, actually. Maybe I can help? I'm Officer McNally," Andy offered, hoping she didn't sound as curious as she actually was.

The mystery woman swiped at the blonde curls that surrounded her face and rested her hands on the counter. Andy sized her up, acknowledging that she seemed genuine enough, even friendly. "Do you know when he'll be back?" the woman persisted.

"Are you sure it's not something I can help with?" Andy prompted, ignoring the woman's question. She was always skeptical when it came to giving out details about a fellow officer to a complete stranger—especially very attractive strangers who were specifically asking for Sam. Andy reminded herself to keep an open mind. After all, it wasn't the woman's fault that she was gorgeous, and she could have completely pure motives for being there.

Or not. "I hope I don't sound as desperate as I feel," the other woman admitted self-consciously amidst a burst of nervous laughter. She leaned toward Andy and spoke as if she were confiding in a friend. "I mean, I do have a legitimate purpose for being here, but I was also hoping for an excuse to bump into Sam at the same time."

Andy wanted to believe that her inclination to withhold Sam's whereabouts resulted strictly from her desire to protect a fellow officer's privacy, but if she were being honest with herself, it was more than that. She and Sam were still gaining their footing as a couple, and although they'd never specifically agreed that they were dating each other exclusively, she had no desire to see anyone else and she hoped he felt the same way.

Andy realized her uncertainty must have been evident when the woman suddenly said, "I'm really sorry. I should have at least given you my name. I'm—"

"Gwen," Sam supplied as he pushed through the glass doors that separated the main part of the station from the lobby. He stopped beside the woman - Gwen, as Andy had just learned - and turned to look at Andy, silently imploring her for an explanation.

"I thought you were out on patrol," Andy said, looking confused.

"Epstein had to stop by the locker room to powder his nose. Otherwise we'd be gone," he explained. He turned his attention to Gwen, who was grinning at him with a inviting smile that Andy was none too happy to see.

"Hi Sam." Gwen addressed him with the casual familiarity of someone who'd definitely spent some time with him. Andy detected an unmistakable undercurrent of flirtation in her tone, and she wondered if Sam heard it, too.

If he realized Gwen was coming on to him, Sam didn't let on. Andy watched him carefully, looking for any signs of overt flirtation on his part. Thankfully, she saw none.

"If you're here to see Jerry, you're out-of-luck," Sam supplied. "He's knee-deep in a case that'll probably have him out interviewing witnesses for most of the day."

"No . . . actually, I was hoping to see you," Gwen informed him uncertainly as Andy watched shamelessly from the sidelines, wondering if she should give them some privacy.

Sam's eyes darted in Andy's direction before quickly returning to Gwen. "Okay. Then what can I do for you?"

"Well, I've got a situation at the store with an employee—a girl who's been with me for a few years. I suspect she's taking money from the register," Gwen said in a rush. "I've been watching her for a few weeks, hoping I was wrong, but it's looking more and more like that's what's going on. I guess I wanted to talk to someone and find out how to handle the situation, what the next step should be . . . that sort of thing."

"Sure," he said easily, resting his elbow against the counter across from Andy. "Why don't I see who we've got back there to take down some information, and then I'll take you back to talk to them."

Andy was relieved that he wasn't asking her to do it. For one thing, she was already keeping Traci waiting. For another, she just really wanted to get away from Gwen, whomever she was.

As Sam turned back toward the glass doors, Gwen spoke up, "Actually, I had another reason for stopping by, too."

"Okay . . . ." Sam said carefully, turning to look at Andy once again. She knew she must seem apprehensive about the situation because he smiled at her reassuringly.

Gwen appeared to be psyching herself up for what was coming next because she drew in a deep breath and said, "Look, I know what you said, but it's been a while, and I was just wondering if, you know, you're still single, you might want to get dinner some time."

Sam's eyebrows climbed to his hairline as he stared open-mouthed at Gwen. Laughing uncomfortably, Gwen continued, "I'm not usually this forward. It's just that we had a good time—at least I did—and I wondered if you might want to do it again."

"Gwen," Sam said abruptly. "I can't." Sam shot a furtive glance in Andy's direction. She had been watching the scene unfold with wide eyes. The worst part was that her feet were rooted firmly to floor as if they were encased in concrete, preventing her from making an escape.

"Oh. Okay. No problem," Gwen responded quickly as her cheeks colored. When Sam's gaze bounced to Andy yet again, Gwen followed his eyes and a look of understanding passed across her face.

"Don't worry about it," Sam told her, sounding as uneasy as Andy felt. "I'll just go back and find someone to take that information from you. Be right back." He turned quickly and walked back through the glass doors, allowing them to slam shut behind him.

"You can go," Gail sighed, startling Andy from behind. When Andy turned and looked at her blankly, Gail asked, "What? I would've brought you a cup, but I didn't know how you took yours."

Andy just shook her head incomprehensibly and started backing away from the counter, wanting to be anywhere else. The only thing she knew with any certainty was that she didn't want to be there when Sam got back. She needed some time to process what had just happened.

Before Andy could get away, though, Gwen broke the silence. "You two are dating, aren't you?" she asked with a smirk.

"Yes," Andy said simply, nodding her head for emphasis.

"Sorry about that. I didn't realize. I guess I'll just put that on the shelf of shame with all of my other dating nightmares," Gwen laughed, and Andy had to give her credit for having a sense of humor about the whole thing.

"Don't worry about it," Andy assured her, forcing a smile as she backed away. "It could've happened to anyone."

As Andy walked away from the reception area, she texted Traci to tell her she'd be out in a few minutes. She needed some time to collect her thoughts, so she ducked into the locker room, hoping no one else would be hanging around.

As she settled down on the bench in front of her locker, Andy's mind was racing. She replayed bits and pieces of the conversation with Gwen, trying to make sense of it all. Until Gwen had come in, she'd been feeling fairly confident about her relationship with Sam. After what had just happened, she wasn't necessarily questioning the whole thing, but she realized she probably needed to clarify a few things with him. Mainly, she admitted to herself, she needed to clarify one thing. She had been assuming that they were exclusive and that neither of them was seeing anyone else. But Gwen had mentioned that she'd had a good time and implied that they should do it again. Andy wasn't sure what to make of that. Had Sam gone out with her? And if so, when? Was he still dating other people?

Sighing, Andy stood up and opened her locker, knowing that she needed to get going. Traci was waiting for her, and as unappealing as park duty was on an unseasonably hot autumn day, they did need to get out there and start patrolling. With her back to the door, she pawed through her locker looking for a hairbrush.

Even though she wasn't looking, Andy knew the minute Sam entered the room. With the exception of his rhythmic breathing a few feet behind her, he was completely silent. Finally, Andy glanced over her shoulder at him and managed to produce a thin smile before turning back to her locker.

In response, Sam came up behind her and rested his hands lightly on her shoulders. She felt his warmth through her uniform, and she looked down at the bottom of her locker, feeling unsure about the situation - feeling unsure about them.

"I sent Diaz out to talk to her," Sam informed Andy, putting an abrupt end to the awkward silence between them.

"That's good. Chris is really thorough," Andy replied, chiding herself for sounding so unnatural and affected.

"McNally," Sam said patiently, exercising the same tone he might use if he were approaching a frightened cat. "You wouldn't be jealous, would you?"

"No." When her reply was met with more silence, she reluctantly admitted, "Well, maybe a little."

He leaned in close to her right ear and said in an almost-whisper, "There's nothing going on with Gwen. Never was. She was just someone Jerry tried to set me up with before you and I were together. We had one pseudo-date and that was it."

"What happened?" Andy asked, feeling relieved as she laid her hands on top of his.

"You happened," he admitted with a shrug. He wrapped his arms around her waist and pulled her backwards against him. "Andy, since that first day we worked together it's always been you. Maybe even before," he admitted. Sam hesitated before continuing, "And I know things with us are still new, but I'm pretty sure it's always going to be you."

"Okay," she responded, letting relief claim her as she sank back against his chest and turned her head to look at him. "I know we've never really talked about whether we're exclusive. I assumed we were, but then she showed up at the desk and she was asking for you . . . ."

"We're exclusive," he assured her in a voice that was low and deep, effectively cutting off any more rambling thoughts that might be going through Andy's head. She covered his arms with hers and smiled happily at him.

* * *

"Hey, watch it, will you?!" Andy yelled as a kid on a skateboard swerved across her path.

"Sorry, Officer," he called over his shoulder, not bothering to stop.

"Man, I hate park duty. Doggy-doo, kids with terrible manners, clunky shoes, bulky uniforms . . ." she complained as she yanked at the collar of her shirt in irritation. It wasn't that she hated being at the park per se. Let it not be said that Andy McNally couldn't appreciate the virtues of a day at the park with a well-stocked picnic basket and a kite. The problem was that she hated being at the park in uniform. Dark pants, a dark shirt and a bullet-proof vest could put a damper on even the most pleasant experiences.

"Yeah, it does kind of suck," Traci agreed as she side-stepped to avoid a duck that had wandered onto the path.

"The worst part is that I was in a great mood when we left the station, and now I just feel so _blah_. I want my great mood back," Andy whimpered. "I know Frank wants more of a police presence out here, but it just seems like such a waste to stick us in the park on foot. We could do a couple of drive-bys and accomplish the same goal."

"Maybe we're looking at this the wrong way," Traci suggested. "The weather's still nice and we get to be outside enjoying a beautiful day. There's a pond and we've got all of these nice, happy picnickers around us . . . ."

"You're right," Andy sighed. "I guess I just need to spin it a different way." She came to an abrupt stop, nudging a silky, pink swath of cloth with her foot.

"Is that what I think it is?" Traci asked, curling her lip in disgust.

"Why would someone take off a bra in the middle of the park?"

"Do you really have to ask?" Traci regarded her dubiously, glancing down at a pair of green-striped boxer shorts beside the path. She pointed a finger at a nearby clump of tall bushes and tiptoed in that direction.

"Oh, no," Andy protested as she followed closely on Traci's heels. "This is _not_ happening. This is the kind of thing that happens to Dov and Chris—not us."

"Well, you'd better prepare yourself," Traci warned her with a wicked grin, "because it's about to happen to us."

One of the bushes shook, and they heard a high-pitched giggle that appeared to be coming from behind it.

"What should we do?" Andy whispered urgently.

"I guess we smoke 'em out," Traci responded with a shrug.

"How?" Andy asked in alarm. "I don't want to see—_that_." She recoiled as she flapped her hand toward the bushes dramatically.

"Neither do I," Traci agreed. "And once they're out here, what do we do with them? Technically, I think we're supposed to take them in, but I don't want that in the backseat of our cruiser."

As the noises got louder, they looked at each other with wide eyes. Behind them, a mother walked by pushing her toddler in a baby carriage. Andy turned to look at her apologetically, noting the scowl on the woman's face when she heard the sounds that were coming from the bushes. She stared at Andy and Traci expectantly before shaking her head in disapproval and moving on.

"Okay, so we can't just leave them back there," Andy insisted. "They're getting louder, and this is a public park. There are kids around."

"Fine," Traci sighed in resignation. "Hey Romeo, Juliet. Get out here now or we're gonna have to arrest you," she shouted into the largest bush, impressing Andy with the intensity of her ultimatum.

"Believe me," Andy added, "we _don't _want to have to arrest you."

The rustling stopped and the bushes fell silent. Andy strained to hear a hushed conversation, and then a guy in his early twenties poked his head out, looking sheepish and red-faced. He was visible from the chest up but remained conveniently obscured by some strategically-placed foliage from the waist down.

"You've got a twig in your hair," Traci muttered as she folded her arms and shook her head at him.

"I'm really sorry," he apologized weakly. "We were just enjoying a nice day at the park, and one thing led to another. We didn't realize we were so close to the path."

When the guy shifted, giving every indication that he was planning to come out, Andy put up her hand and warned him, "Woah there, Big Guy. Keep it behind the bush."

"Are you gonna arrest us?" a small female voice asked. No face was attached to the voice, and Andy was more than happy to keep it that way.

Traci looked at Andy for guidance. "Should we take them in?" she muttered without moving her lips.

"Well, we do have that _other_ important call to get to," Andy said, shooting a purposeful look at Traci.

Traci looked at her absently, wrinkling her brow in confusion. Suddenly, she grinned as comprehension hit her full force. "You two just got lucky. My partner and I were on our way to another call when we stumbled across your little love nest. So today, you get a pass, but next time, you won't be so fortunate. Now put on some clothes and get out of there before we change our minds," she said with scorn.

Andy rooted around on the ground for their undergarments, collecting them on the end of a stick and shoving them toward the guy as if she were poking at a fire. "Don't make us regret this decision," she admonished him.

"Do you mind, um, handing me my shorts?" he stammered, glancing toward an adjacent bush with a pair of shorts hanging from an upper branch.

Andy rolled her eyes and stomped over to the bush. Swiping the shorts off of the branch, she tossed them in the guy's direction and headed back to the path where Traci was waiting for her.

"Do you think we did the right thing?" Traci asked.

"I don't know," Andy said, dissolving into a fit of giggles. "Where did all of that stuff about Romeo and Juliet come from? You were fierce, Trace."

"Was I?" Traci chuckled. "I was trying to channel my inner Noelle. I still can't believe that just happened. What were they thinking?"

"They probably just got carried away. It happens," Andy said with a shrug. As it often did, a subtle smile bloomed on her lips as she thought of Sam. She knew exactly what they were thinking.

"Andy, please. You're practically levitating. And don't get any ideas. If I ever have to pull you and Swarek out from behind a clump of bushes, you can forget about preserving this friendship," Traci threatened her half-heartedly.

"No. It's not that," Andy laughed. "I'm just_ really _happy. And content. And happy."

"You said 'happy' twice."

"Well, it's worth repeating. I guess it just took a couple of kids getting it on in the bushes to remind me that my life is pretty great. Not even park duty on a warm day can keep me down."

"So I take it things are going well with you two," Traci observed.

"Things are going _very_ well," Andy confirmed with a smug smile.

"Is it serious?"

"Define serious."

"Does he have a toothbrush at your apartment?" Traci clarified.

"Yes. We've done the exchanging of toothbrushes," Andy assured her. "Traci, it's hard for me to put into words, but he's just there for me. And it makes me want to be there for him. I mean, you know all about the stuff with my Mom. I've always held back in relationships because I was afraid of getting hurt. But with Sam, it's just not an issue. He's present, and I know he's not going anywhere." She thought about the fact that he was even there for her at the hospital before he really knew her.

"Okay. So it's definitely serious," Traci decided.

"Don't get me wrong," Andy continued, almost as if she were talking to herself. "It's not perfect. Sometimes he makes me so mad, and I know there are times when I drive him crazy, too. I think that's sort of the point, though. We challenge each other in the right ways."

"Look who's turned into a relationship expert . . . ."

"Ugh. You're right. I sound like such a freak." Andy grimaced.

"A little bit," Traci acknowledged with a smile. "But at least you sound like a happy freak."

* * *

Sam walked into the Penny after shift, feeling exhausted and drained. After the mess with Gwen that morning and then having to be cooped up in a car all day with Epstein, he could barely string together two coherent sentences. Epstein was a nice enough kid, but the way he ping-ponged from one subject to another was enough to drive a guy senseless. And then there was the thing with Gwen . . . . That had been terrible timing, for sure. A strange woman had literally walked in off the street talking about what a great time she'd had with him and asking if he wanted to do it again. It had been pretty easy to figure out where Andy's mind was going with that one. Although he'd been able to clear up any confusion, ultimately, the near miss had left him feeling unnerved and shaken.

As Sam approached the bar, he made the internal decision to impose a one drink maximum upon himself. When that was finished, he planned to collect Andy and cruise out of there for the night. All he wanted was to be alone with her. Hoping to catch the bartender's attention, he held up his hand. In the next moment it fell limply to his side and his eyes turned to slits when he occasioned a glance across the room and saw a flock of unfamiliar men surrounding Andy and Nash. Of the five guys, two of them appeared to be almost exclusively focused on Andy. As far as Sam was concerned, that was two guys too many. Instantly, he recognized the unmistakable body language of a couple of guys with an agenda. Whether she realized what they were doing was not as clear to Sam. All thoughts of that one drink forgotten, Sam set Andy in his sights and plotted a trajectory straight for her table, leaving a confused bartender standing at the bar waiting to take his order.

As he approached Andy and her admirers, she looked away from the two guys and smiled at him warmly, and he was glad to know that at least she seemed happy to see him. "Hi," she said happily, fixing her gaze on him as if they shared a secret. Right then, Sam knew that he had nothing to worry about on her end. As for the guys, that was a different story. Sam wanted to make sure they understood where the line was. He knew what was going through their heads, and he wanted it to stop immediately.

"This is Jake and Seth. They're thinking about becoming cops," Andy said by way of introduction.

The guy she'd introduced as Jake held out his hand toward Sam. When Sam stared back at him with a menacing expression, Jake said, "And you are?"

"Her boyfriend," Sam growled.

The guy retracted his hand immediately, looking slightly embarrassed as he muttered, "Nice to meet you." He eyed Sam for several long, uncomfortable seconds before announcing, "We were, uh, just going to get another drink. Did you want anything?" he asked Andy as he and Seth inched away.

"No, I'm good. Thanks," she assured them with a polite smile. When they were gone, she looked at Sam with laughter in her eyes. "I think you freaked them out," she informed him in a playfully reproachful tone.

"Good," he said, sounding not the least bit remorseful. "You do know they were hitting on you, right?"

"They were talking to Traci, too," she pointed out.

"I only care about you," he grumbled. "Jerry can fight his own battles."

"Sam, they were just talking. Nothing would've happened."

"I know," he sighed.

"Do you?" she questioned him.

"Yes," he said with more conviction than before. "I trust you, but we both know they were hoping for more. And when I saw you with them, you looked like you were having a good time. I guess it did worry me a little," he admitted.

"Sam," she said, evincing a serious expression as she took both of his hands and stared directly into his eyes. "The only guy I'm looking at is you. And I know things with us are still new, but I'm pretty sure that the only guy I'm ever going to look at again is you."

"Okay," he said with a smile, feeling like he might have overreacted. He couldn't feel that embarrassed about it, though, because she'd just admitted something that made him feel pretty secure.

She smirked at him. "You told them you were my boyfriend."

"I did," he confirmed.

"That's the first time you've said that."

"I'm not big on labels. We know what we have and where this is going," he said. "But if it keeps guys like that away from you, yes, I'm your boyfriend, McNally."

"Are you ready to go?" she asked him.

"Yeah. Let's call it a day," he agreed immediately as he slung his arm around her shoulder and guided her toward the door.


	14. Chapter 14

**I'll try to post the next chapter soon. It needs some edits****, so as soon as I can get those done, I'll put it out there. In the meantime, holy cow, is the show getting good or what? It almost negates the need for fanfic (yes, I am aware that this is a fanfiction website, so please forget that I even mentioned that).**

**Thank you to everyone on here for being so great. You guys really are the best!  
**

* * *

"Hey, man," Sam said to Jerry as he slid onto an adjacent bar stool at the Penny. "How long's it been since we were here at the same time?" He signaled to the bartender to bring him a glass of whatever beer Jerry was drinking.

Jerry pursed his lips, looking thoughtful. "Gotta be a few weeks," he surmised. "It's been a while since we worked the same shift."

"Like two ships passing in the night . . . ." Sam reflected. As the bartender slid a pint glass across the bar to him, Sam leaned over and scooped up a handful of peanuts from the bowl in front of Jerry, popping them into his mouth one by one.

Aiming a proprietary glance at his friend, Jerry casually nudged the bowl out of Sam's reach. "So how're things with McNally?"

Sam smiled into his beer and nodded. "Things are good." At the mention of her name, his eyes wandered over to the rookie table. Like a heat-seeking missile, they locked onto Andy. As he watched her, she tossed back her head and laughed, and Sam couldn't stop himself from wondering what had been responsible for making her so happy. Months into their relationship and she was still an enigma to him, a puzzle that he was dying to solve. And he was starting to think that he might always feel that way about her.

"How long's it been?" Jerry asked, scratching the back of his head with a finger. "Three months?"

"Four," Sam corrected him as he abruptly refocused his attention on Jerry.

"Is it serious?"

Sam hesitated before finally confessing, "Yeah, it is."

"Serious as in, 'you're gonna marry her' serious?" Jerry persisted.

"What's with all the questions?"

"Just curious," Jerry said nonchalantly. "Assuming I'm the Best Man, it'd be nice to have some advance notice so that I can get my tux dry cleaned."

Sam chuckled lightly before admitting, "Don't dust off the tux yet, but when the time comes, yeah, I'm gonna marry her." It wasn't something he'd thought much about because he and Andy weren't at that point yet, but there was no doubt in his mind that he was going to marry her when they were ready. It was just one of those truths that he carried around with him on a daily basis—the sun would rise and set, Oliver would bum a drink off of someone every time he walked into the Penny and Andy McNally would eventually be his wife.

Jerry pulled out his Smartphone and started typing, looking amused with himself. "You like Epstein and Diaz, right?"

Sam raised an eyebrow, sighing as he took the bait. "What're you doing, Jerry?"

"Making a list of guys to invite to the bachelor party. How do you feel about my cousin Sheldon?"

"No."

"'No' to Sheldon or 'no' to the bachelor party?" Jerry asked, continuing to add people to his list.

"Both," Sam grunted as he rolled his eyes at Jerry. "I said 'when the time comes.'"

"So sue me for being a little excited," Jerry laughed. "I never thought I'd hear you willingly slipping the 'm' word into casual conversation. This is a big day."

"When you meet the right person everything changes." Sam shrugged as he took a sip of his drink. "What about you and Nash? How's that going?"

"You're dating her best friend," Jerry observed. "Doesn't McNally keep you informed?"

"That just shows how little you know about women, Brother. If I ask McNally about your date with Nash Friday night, what she's gonna tell me is where you took Nash for dinner, what you both had to eat, how Nash _felt_ about where you took her, whether you played with her kid when you got home and how _that_ made her feel. It's too much information for one person to possibly sift through alone. Sometimes it's easier not to ask," Sam explained succinctly.

Jerry laughed and tapped the rim of his glass against Sam's. "By the way, McNally told Traci that she thought you looked hot in the shirt you wore to the movies last week. You know, the dark grey one, kinda tight, sleeves pushed up to your elbows-"

"Stop talking now," Sam warned Jerry, holding up his hand.

"I'm telling you, it's one of your better looks, Sammy."

Sam shook his head and looked down at his beer, willing the conversation to change course.

Jerry was silent for several seconds before offering up, "Since you asked, Traci and I are doing really well."

"Good to hear," Sam said with a nod, appreciating the subject change almost as much as the fact that things between Jerry and Nash were going well.

"She's a package deal, so we're taking it slowly. I'm getting to know Leo, and things are good." When Jerry looked at Sam, there was a sparkle in his eyes that Sam had never seen there before. He decided that it was a good look for his friend. Something about feeling happy and content in his own personal life made Sam want to see all of his friends in the same place. "If I'd felt this way the first time around, I might've stayed married," Jerry informed him.

"Nash is one of the good ones. Just try not to screw it up," Sam said with a grin. He quickly glanced down at his watch and then back over at Jerry.

"What . . . am I boring you now? Got somewhere better to be? Or someone else to be _with_, maybe?" Jerry needled him.

"No, it's not that," Sam explained. "I'm meeting with the prosecutor to go over my testimony in the morning, and I need to be fresh. So this'll have to be an early night."

"When does the trial start?" Jerry asked.

"Tuesday," Sam responded. "I'm not up until Thursday, though."

"Seems kind of fast."

"It is," Sam agreed. "The prosecutor managed to get it fast-tracked. They were concerned that Davenport and his guys might walk if things dragged on for too long. The earlier, the better, as far as I'm concerned. I'm ready to be done with it and move on," Sam told him. It was definitely a chapter he was ready to close. Things had changed so much since he returned from the Davenport op that it seemed like only a distant memory, and not a particularly fond one.

"This is a big one, Sammy," Jerry observed. "You worried about Davenport or any of the other defendants doing something to keep you from testifying?"

"Not really," Sam said indifferently. He rubbed a hand across his jaw thoughtfully. "You know how these things go. It's the responsibility we assume when we put on the badge. None of us is ever assured that someone we take down won't make things personal. In this case, the prosecutor's managed to keep my name off the books, so even if they figured out that my alias was the leak, they wouldn't know who I was or where to find me. Besides, I'm not the only witness. Several of the minor players made deals with the prosecution. Those guys have been with Davenport for years and have way more to offer than I do."

"Just don't underestimate your importance in the whole thing," Jerry admonished him. "If you're not in the picture, the cases against those other guys fall apart and then they refuse to testify against Davenport."

"Don't worry, Brother. I'll watch my back," Sam assured him, taking another sip of his beer.

* * *

The next night, Sam walked into his apartment just after 10 p.m., feeling exhausted but strangely wired. An excruciatingly long day with the prosecutor had left him mentally drained but unfortunately, not ready for sleep. After a full day of being grilled about information from months before, his mind was on overload. He dropped his jacket on the couch and headed straight for the bedroom. Stopping in the doorway, he took in the sight of a sleeping Andy cozied up beneath the covers on his bed. Only her head was visible. After a long, stressful day, coming home to her made everything in his world seem better.

Sam brushed his teeth and changed into a pair of sweatpants, climbing into bed beside Andy within five minutes. She was lying on her side, facing him, and as he crawled underneath the covers and wrapped his arms around her, she didn't budge. For a few minutes, he observed her while she slept, enjoying her calming presence. Gradually, however, he grew impatient. As peaceful as he felt while watching Andy, he really just wanted to see her eyes looking back at him and hear her voice, maybe even get a laugh out of her. Loosening his hold on her, he moved around restlessly, not intentionally trying to rouse her, but if she happened to wake up on her own, he wouldn't exactly be broken up about it.

As he sat up and made a show of straightening out the comforter, Andy mumbled, "I'm awake."

"Oh, sorry," he whispered apologetically. "Was I being too fidgety?"

"Yes, you were," she laughed as she opened her eyes to look at him. "It's almost like you _wanted_ me to wake up."

"I can't help it if you're a light sleeper," he claimed with a small smile.

"I was already awake," she sighed. "I couldn't sleep."

"Not tired?"

"No, I'm definitely tired," she told him immediately. "I just . . . I don't know . . . you'll probably think this sounds ridiculous, but I couldn't sleep because you weren't home yet. I like going to sleep with you beside me," she admitted sheepishly.

"It doesn't sound ridiculous," he quickly assured her, wrapping his arms around her again. "When you had that Girls' Night last week I barely slept at all."

"You didn't tell me that," Andy said, looking surprised.

"I didn't want to sound too, you know, needy," he replied gruffly, "but since you brought it up . . . ."

She burrowed into Sam, rewarding him with a soft, slow kiss that went a long way toward relaxing him - or at least forcing his thoughts elsewhere. Pulling back, she asked, "So how was the trial prep?"

"Long," he groaned.

"When this one's finished, do you still have to testify at the other trials, too?" Andy asked.

"Most of those guys cut deals with the prosecution. Guilty pleas on lesser charges in exchange for testifying against Davenport. This is the big one, and if it goes well, I won't have many more of these to do."

"What about the supplier from out west?"

"Tate," Sam supplied. "They may not even call me as a witness in that one. I didn't have much knowledge of the guy, so if they use me, my role will be minimal. From what I've heard, the prosecution flipped a few of his guys and they're building a case on the strength of the arrest and those testimonies."

"Then it really will be done when you finish up with this one," Andy said, sounding relieved.

"Yep. No one's more excited about that than me."

"So everything went well today, then?"

"Pretty good," he said noncommittally. "It brought up a lot of memories, though. Stuff from the day you got shot. And that made me start thinking about whether I could've done something to prevent it."

"Sam, we've talked about this," she said, starting to become agitated. "You can't always protect me or anyone else-"

"I know," he silenced her with an assurance and a kiss on the forehead. "Doesn't mean I can't try, though."

She let out a loud sigh but relaxed in his arms. "Sam, you can't keep people you care about in a bubble. Things are going to happen, and if they do, I need to know that you're not going to be beating yourself up about them."

"I can't make any promises," he said vaguely. "You're too important to me. I want to do whatever I can to make sure you're safe."

"But you do realize you can't be everywhere at once and you can't always anticipate what's going to happen, right?"

Sam stared at her, not wanting to answer her question. Logically, he agreed with everything she was saying. The problem was that there was always a part of him that was going to want to keep her safe and that part of him would also feel responsible if anything bad befell her.

When he didn't answer her question, Andy continued, "Look, even if bad things do happen, I promise you I'll always do my best to come back to you. I think that's the most we can promise each other. Will you do that for me, too?"

"Yes," he agreed as he rubbed her back gently. He hadn't meant to get her worked up and he didn't like knowing that his penchant for being overprotective was upsetting her. He felt as if he owed her some explanation. They'd talked a lot about his need to protect her, but he'd never really tried to make her understand why.

"Andy, I have a lot of demons," he said slowly. "Sometimes it feels like I'm just waiting for one of them to take me down. And then I start to worry that it all extends to the people I care about, too."

"What kind of demons?" she asked curiously.

"Well, I had a really rough childhood," he began, trailing off before gathering steam and finishing his thought. "Things at home were never easy," he explained, hoping she'd fill in the gaps with what he wasn't saying.

"Sam, those aren't demons. That's your past. They may be someone else's demons, but they're not yours. You were just a kid," she said rationally.

"That's not all of it," he continued. "As I got older - before I became a cop - I did a lot of things that I'm not proud of."

"It doesn't matter," she said emphatically. "You're a good person, and no matter what you did, you made the choice to be better. That's what counts."

Sam allowed himself to consider her point of view. It had been so long since he'd talked to anyone else about his past—to be honest, he'd never talked to anyone about his past—that it felt good to hear an outside perspective.

"You're right," he conceded with a yawn, willing to let the matter rest for the time being. All he wanted was a full night of sleep with Andy's limbs tangled up in his.

She smiled at him sleepily, resting a hand on his cheek. "You're tired."

"I am," he admitted as he wove his fingers through the hair that hung down her back.

As Sam drifted off to sleep, she suddenly asked, "Are you happy?"

"Yes," he responded, hoping she could hear the smile in his voice, because her eyes had already closed.

"Good. Me, too."

* * *

"You can just drop me off on the curb," Andy told Sam the next morning when he pulled up in front of her apartment.

"Are you sure you don't want me to wait?" he asked.

"No. I'll walk. You need to get in to the station and start reviewing those files with Jerry," she insisted. "Besides, it might take a few minutes, and I don't want you to have to hang around," she added, thinking about the heaps of clean but as yet unfolded laundry on her bed. She'd stopped at home to do laundry before going over to Sam's apartment the night before, but by the time she'd finished, she'd been too exhausted to fold it and put it away. Had she taken care of business at the time, she probably wouldn't have forgotten to throw a few clean T-shirts into her bag and they wouldn't have needed to stop by her place at all that morning.

"Suit yourself," he said with a shrug. "It's a pretty cold day out there . . . ."

She leaned across the truck and gave him a quick kiss. "Thanks for looking out for me," she said, sliding out onto the sidewalk and yanking open the back door to grab her bag. As she tossed it over her shoulder, she spun around and very nearly collided with Sam. Somehow, in the time it had taken her to exit the truck and fumble around with her bag in the back seat, he'd managed to make it around to her side and completely freak her out by standing in her personal space.

"Sam, what're you doing?!" She said as she worked to regulate her breathing and her racing heart.

"Sorry. I thought you saw me coming around," he said quickly, putting his hands on her shoulders to steady her.

"You didn't have to get out," she told him.

"I know," he responded simply. Without preamble, he walked her back against the truck and brought his mouth to hers for an emotionally-charged kiss that left Andy feeling as if every bone in her body had been liquified. When he pressed his body against hers and started to deepen the kiss, she drew back and rested a gentle hand against his chest as a reminder that they were on a public street.

"What was that all about?" she breathed as he eyed her with a self-satisfied grin on his face.

"Just wanted to say 'have a good shift,' McNally."

She laughed. "Well, I definitely heard your message loud and clear. I guess I don't need to worry about being cold on my walk to work now."

"You're welcome for that," he said as he gathered her into a tight hug.

"So if you've already told me to have a good shift," she mumbled against his chest, "does that mean you're planning to skip Parade?"

"No, but I didn't really think that was the kind of message you'd want me to convey to a roomful of co-workers."

"Thanks for thinking that one through," she giggled.

As he backed away, he reminded her, "Don't forget that I'm working that double tonight - covering for Walt so he can go to his kid's piano recital."

"Got it." She hoisted her bag up higher on her shoulder and headed toward her apartment.

* * *

"McNally," Oliver greeted her as she walked around the corner. "Always nice to see you in the men's locker room."

"Don't worry," Andy assured him. Her eyes skipped involuntarily from Oliver to Sam. "I'm not sticking around. I just stopped in to say goodnight."

"I'm flattered," Oliver said with mock sincerity. "I didn't know you cared."

"She doesn't," Sam grumbled as he popped open his locker and surveyed its contents.

"Ouch," Oliver winced, looking wounded. "Someone's in a bad mood."

"Bet you're wishing you didn't agree to take on that double," Andy teased Sam.

"I'm a nice guy," he claimed. "It's what we do."

"Well, I'm outta here," Oliver announced as he picked up his bag off of the bench and headed toward the door. "I promised Zoe I'd be home on time tonight. Have a good shift, Nice Guy. 'Night, McNally. Try to keep it 'work appropriate' in here."

When Oliver was gone, Andy looked at Sam and muttered, "He thinks I can't keep my hands off of you."

"He's right. You can't."

"Sure. Because I was the one who pushed you up against a truck this morning and kissed you senseless," she laughed.

"That's exactly how I remember it, too. I'm just glad you're willing to admit it," he said in a level tone.

Andy rolled her eyes and smiled. As Sam rummaged around in his locker, she sidled up beside him and peered inside. "What're you looking for?"

"Gum," he told her as he retrieved the package and held it up between his thumb and index finger. "Want a piece?"

"No, but I'm starving. Got any food in there?" she asked hopefully.

"Sure. What're you in the mood for? Pancakes . . . prime rib . . . I think I saw a baked potato in here somewhere . . . ."

"What's that?" she asked suddenly, pointing to a shiny wrapper underneath his jeans.

"Definitely not prime rib," he said as he dangled the candy bar in front of her face. "That's all I've got."

"Hmph," she sniffed. "I guess it'll have to do." She accepted it with a dramatic sigh.

"Don't do me any favors," he said dryly.

"Thanks," she said happily, kissing him on the cheek. "I need a little fuel for the walk home."

"Let me drive you," Sam offered immediately.

"No, it's fine." She waved him away as she slipped the candy bar into her pocket. "I could use the fresh air. Are you coming over after you finish up here?"

"It'll be pretty early in the morning," he reminded her. "I'll probably be tired, and I can't promise I'll be in a good mood."

"Well, you're in luck, because I happen to like Moody Sam. It's one of my favorite versions of you," she admitted.

"Fine. But you asked for it, McNally. No whining when I roll in at 5 a.m. You know how you hate getting out of bed before the sun comes up."

"I'll make a one-time exception," she promised as she headed for the locker room door, smiling back at him before disappearing around the corner. "Have fun tonight."

* * *

Andy pulled open the door to her building and stepped inside quickly, rubbing her hands together in a frenzied attempt to reclaim the warmth she'd lost during the walk home. Having endured two obscenely cold walks that day, she vowed to take Sam up on any and all future offers to drive her to and from work.

She shook the cold from her limbs and focused her attention on a large guy standing at the mailboxes with his back to her. Normally, her first order of business would be to check her mail, but the guy seemed to be in no hurry to move on and he was blocking most of the boxes. Andy waited exactly seven seconds before deciding to skip the mail altogether. She sighed in resignation and headed for the stairs, not willing to wait around for the inevitable stack of catalogs and bills that would still be there the next day. Her plans for the evening consisted of warming up some leftovers and soaking in a hot bath, and she was eager to get to them.

As Andy approached her apartment, she slowed down, letting her backpack fall from her shoulder. She unzipped the front pouch where she kept her keys and flipped nimbly through her key ring until she located the right one. Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed movement and turned her head to the right, expecting to see one of her neighbors coming toward her. She was mildly surprised to see that instead of a neighbor, it was the guy from downstairs. As she watched his approach, her instincts told her something about him wasn't right. Andy's eyes darted nervously from the determined set of his jaw to his purposeful stride and she instantly knew that his presence in her hallway wasn't a good thing. Immediately, her mind began firing off exit strategies. There was no way out through her apartment, and she knew she couldn't go back the way she'd come because he was blocking her. The back stairwell presented itself as her only other option, so Andy spun around and took off in that direction.

Unfortunately, her attempt at escape came too little, too late. She managed only several good strides past her doorway before the guy snaked out an arm and grabbed her around the waist, lifting her off of her feet and yanking her backwards. Andy was only able to force out one muffled scream before he clamped a meaty hand over her mouth.

"Don't make this harder than it has to be," the guy grunted.

In response, she kicked and writhed in his grasp, refusing to let him take her without a fight. Each time she heard a strained "oomph" or snort coming from the guy, she fought harder to gain the upper hand. She even dug her keys into his arm, but that only elicited an angry yelp as he wrenched them from her grasp and pocketed them. Eventually, his grip tightened and she accepted the likelihood that he was going to overpower her. He was just too big for her to fight off. Her last desperate thought was that if he were planning to take her somewhere, she had to leave some clue about what had happened. She kicked the walls, hoping to leave marks. She rammed her hand into the open front pouch of her bag and wrapped her fingers around the only thing she could find, knowing that it would have to do. If the guy took her somewhere against her will, she wanted to leave a clue that she'd been there so that her friends would know where to start searching for her. Pulling out her hand, she let the object float to the ground, hoping Sam would be the one to find it. No sooner had she dropped it than her assailant hit her over the head with the butt of a gun and she blacked out.


	15. Chapter 15

**Thank you to everyone who's been following this story. And thank you for not sending me hate messages after the ending on that last chapter. That was a pretty terrible thing to do, so I appreciate the continued support. :) Four chapters to go (after this one) . . . .  
**

* * *

"Sammy, it's Boyd. Where are you?" The voice coming through the receiver on Sam's phone sounded even more agitated and flustered than usual, prompting Sam's fingers to tighten around the steering wheel.

"I'm out on patrol. What's wrong?" Sam asked through clenched teeth, not liking the apprehensive feeling that was slowly creeping up on him. Until Boyd's call, he'd been congratulating himself on his incredible good fortune in picking up an uneventful shift off of Walt. It was already 2 a.m., and with only two hours left to go, he was almost in the clear.

"Maybe nothing. We don't know," Boyd said quickly. "I just got a call from the Prosecutor in Davenport's case. There was a break-in at their office two nights ago, and they've been trying to figure out what was taken. They don't know anything for sure . . . I mean, it's all just speculation at this point-"

"Spit it out, Boyd," Sam demanded.

"They think someone may have gained access to files that had information about you in them."

"What do you mean '_may have_?'" Sam asked in a clipped tone, trying to keep his breathing level. "And why didn't they let us know sooner?"

"I don't know. Initially, they were focused on what might be missing, but when they realized nothing was missing, they started looking at other reasons for the break-in. They're not even sure it has anything to do with you," Boyd insisted. "The timing lines up with Davenport's trial, though, and whoever did it would've had access to some case files with your name and contact information in them. As a precaution, they want to put a protective detail on you until after you testify. Your testimony starts tomorrow, so at most, you're probably looking at a week," Boyd was quick to point out.

"I'm not worried about myself," Sam scoffed. "What about my sister and nephew? What about Andy?"

"They're sending someone over to your sister's place right now. You should probably call and give her a heads up. I know I'd be freaked out if the cops came knocking on my door at 2 a.m.," Boyd remarked, attempting a joke. Sam rolled his eyes.

"What about Andy?" he seethed as he strained for patience.

"McNally?" Boyd questioned in surprise. "They'll put someone on her, too, if you want."

"I do," Sam barked. "I want her kept safe. If they came looking for me it wouldn't be much of a stretch to figure out we're together and go after her."

"So you're together now. Fine, fine. Whatever you want," Boyd said in a soothing tone that only made Sam angrier. "I'll take care of it."

Sam hung up and immediately called his sister's number. As it turned out, she took the news better than he'd expected. He made sure she knew to keep everything locked up until the police got there, and he told her not to let them in until she saw badges. He knew she'd be okay. Sarah was shrewd enough to look out for herself and Alex. Moreover, she had a gun, and she was a pretty decent shot.

After hanging up with his sister, Sam immediately called Andy. When she didn't answer, he hit redial and did a u-turn in the middle of the empty street, punching the accelerator as he headed in the direction of her apartment. He tried to reassure himself that she was probably just asleep. After all, that's what people did at two o'clock in the morning. She could have been sleeping so soundly that she didn't hear the phone or she might have left it out in the living room when she went to bed. In spite of the attempts to calm his mounting fears, Sam's anxiety was off the charts by the time he pulled up outside of Andy's building and bailed out of the cruiser. He barreled up the stairs and down the hallway, stopping abruptly when he got to her door. It was locked up tightly, so he pulled out his keys and let himself in. Walking into the silent apartment was the worst part. As he ran through the empty rooms and found no sign of her or that she'd even been there, his breathing grew ragged.

Sam's next call was to Traci to find out if Andy might have gone to her place instead of coming home. It seemed like a long shot but still a distinct possibility, and he wanted to cling to that small sliver of hope as long as he could. His hope faded fast when a very groggy Traci informed him that she hadn't seen or heard from Andy since the prior afternoon. When he explained what was going on, Traci immediately shook off the vestiges of sleep, telling him she was coming right over. As one final possibility, Sam tried Andy's Dad's number, willing Tommy to pick up and tell him she was there and that she was safe. Tommy answered, but when he admitted that he didn't know where she was either, Sam was left to bring him up to speed, too, before cutting the conversation short to call Frank. The call to Frank was brief and to the point, which was good because that was all Sam could handle by that point. Frank told him to sit tight and that he'd have uniforms at Andy's apartment within minutes.

While he waited, Sam combed through her apartment checking for any clues. He was careful not to touch anything, even though he already knew there was nothing to find there. Not only was nothing disturbed, but his intuition told him she hadn't been there at all. Sam sat down and put his head in his hands as a parade of worst-case scenarios marched through his brain. Within minutes, the noise in his head was so overwhelming that he was barely able to form a conscious thought.

When Traci knocked on the open door, he jerked his head to attention, only to feel deflated as soon as he saw that it was only her and Jerry.

"Any word?" she asked hesitantly.

"No," Sam muttered as he ran both hands through his hair roughly. Needing more of an outlet, he got up and started pacing.

"Sammy, did you call it in?" Jerry asked cautiously, eying Sam with concern.

"Yeah, yeah," Sam said absently. "I called Frank. He's taking care of it."

As he walked the floor, Jerry and Traci watched him with worry etched on their faces. Finally, Sam stopped and looked at them, needing someone to bounce ideas off of. All he had were thoughts, and he had to start sorting them into something cohesive that might lead them to Andy. "The place was locked up when I got here," he explained. "I don't think she came home. I would've seen something, and there was just nothing. No indication that she'd been here, no signs of a struggle . . . ." At the mention of a struggle, images of Andy being assaulted by some faceless thug flooded his mind, and he found himself overwhelmed yet again as he thought of all the things that could have happened to her.

Traci guided Sam to the chair beside the couch, urging him to sit down. He dropped onto it with an uneven sigh. "Okay," she began slowly, sitting down on the couch and motioning for Jerry to take the seat beside her. "So she wasn't here. When did you last see her? Let's start there," she said calmly.

"She came by the locker room around six last night before she left the station. I was working a double and she wanted to tell me goodnight. She said she was heading home and didn't mention any other stops." Sam rattled off the details automatically, knowing what he'd want to know if he were doing the questioning.

"Did she walk home?"

"Yes. I don't know. She must have. That's what her plan was, anyway," Sam said, hating himself for not knowing with any certainty and for not forcing her to accept a ride from him.

"Okay," Traci said in an even tone, "for now, let's assume she walked because we know she probably did. She would've been walking home and somewhere along the way, something happened."

Sam looked at Traci blankly. That was it, he realized. That was all they had. Nothing to go on other than that Andy might have walked in the direction of home and _something_ happened. A door slammed shut in Sam's mind. He was on one side of it, and Andy was on the other. He didn't know where she was, what had happened or how to find her. He knew nothing. As he dropped his head into his hands again, a feeling of helplessness swept over him.

Before Traci could say anything else, Frank walked in, having come straight from his house. Not far behind him were a series of uniformed cops who began to scour Andy's apartment looking for any clues as to her disappearance. Several of them worked the halls of her building, canvassing the neighbors. Jerry took over as lead detective until someone else showed up, and Traci started walking the hallways with some of the other cops on duty.

Seeing some action helped Sam to collect himself so that by the time Tommy rushed through the door, Sam was able to sit with him on the couch and try to calm him down, offering assurances that they would find her. He didn't know how that was going to happen. They had nothing to go on, but Sam needed to believe she was okay. That hope was the only thing he had.

When one of the officers in the hallway walked in with a baggie containing something shiny, Sam barely spared the guy a glance. As the baggie was handed off to Jerry, however, and it passed through Sam's line of sight, he stood up and grabbed it.

"Where did you get this?" he demanded, addressing the cop directly.

"In the hallway just outside the door. Shoved over to the side. Probably nothing," he admitted with a shrug.

"It's something," Sam said, eying the wrapper from the candy bar Andy had taken from his locker the previous evening. "She had this with her when she left the locker room last night. If you found it in the hallway, it means she was out there. Someone must've grabbed her before she got inside," he stated, trying not to think too much about what that meant. It was something. If nothing else, it was a connection to Andy, and that was what he desperately needed.

Tommy was standing beside him in an instant. "How do you know it's hers?"

"I just know," Sam insisted.

Jerry took the baggie from his hand, looking it over as he said, "Sammy, I'm not saying it's nothing, but it could be from anyone. Until we test it for prints, we won't know for sure."

"Then do it," Sam said forcefully. "Look, she took a candy bar from my locker right before she left the station. I'm telling you I know this is from her," Sam snapped.

"Okay, calm down. We're on it," Jerry assured him. "Were there any signs of a struggle outside?" Jerry wondered aloud as he walked out the door and looked around the hallway nearby. Sam, Tommy and the other cop followed him outside.

Pointing to some scuff marks near Andy's door, Jerry said, "There. Could be new, could be old. Do either of you remember if they were here before?" he asked Sam and Tommy.

When they both shook their heads, Jerry said, "That's okay. We'll see what we can do to figure out if they're fresh. Why don't you two go back inside and try to relax."

Relaxing was the last thing on Sam's mind as he started to form a picture of what might have happened. He needed to get out and start moving. He had nothing to go on, though, so he allowed himself to be led back into the apartment.

Sam dropped down on the couch beside Tommy. Like an island in the middle of a turbulent ocean, they sat together while an ever-increasing army of cops and detectives milled around the apartment.

"So you think this is tied to the case you're involved in?" Tommy asked him, breaking the heavy silence that surrounded them.

"Yes," Sam answered firmly. "The timing is too coincidental. If they were responsible for the break-in at the prosecutor's office they would've known how to find me. And that would've led them to her." Sam's heart stilled as he retraced their movements from the prior morning, realizing that if anyone had been following them for just that short amount of time, it would have become immediately clear how to get to him. If it were true, then he'd not only led them from his apartment to hers but he'd also showed them how important she was to him when he said goodbye to her before he left. Sam shook his head, feeling responsible for everything that was happening. In the back of his mind, he'd always considered the possibility that one of the perps he helped take down might come after him. He'd never really allowed himself to consider that they might go after someone he loved, though. Truthfully, before Andy, that list had been so short that it hadn't been much of an issue. Other than his sister and Alex, there was no one else. Now that Andy was part of his life, though, she'd become a weapon for someone to use against him without him even realizing it.

Breaking into Sam's thoughts, Tommy asked, "Did any of the guys being charged get released?"

"I don't think so. At least no one worth worrying about. Too much of a flight risk. It could be Davenport or one of his guys pulling the strings from the inside, though, or it could be one of their connections operating independently," Sam reflected, getting antsy as he considered the relatively open-ended field of potential suspects. Between Davenport and his associates, the list of possible connections could be endless.

"We don't know anything for sure, though," Tommy reminded him.

"Not yet," Sam agreed, starting to feel desperate again.

As if on cue, his phone beeped. Sam looked down at it and realized he had an incoming text. Two words. Two hopelessly vague words. _Don't testify_. As he read it, his breathing became erratic. It only confirmed what he'd already known, but the confirmation of his hunch left Sam with a chilling sensation. He looked at the text again before showing it to Tommy and eventually passing it off to Jerry. He already knew they would try to trace it and ultimately find nothing. No one who had the wherewithal to kidnap someone was going to use a phone that could be traced.

Sam knew he was going to go crazy if he sat around Andy's apartment any longer. He needed to be out doing something - _anything_. So he abruptly got up off of the couch and announced, "I'm going out to see what I can dig up . . . try to tie this to one of Davenport's connections."

As Sam reclaimed his phone, Jerry looked at him skeptically. "I don't think that's such a good idea. If you're right and someone's trying to keep you quiet, you're too close to this."

"I'm just going to talk to a contact of mine who might've heard something. I'll take Nash with me," Sam stated firmly, making it clear that his statement wasn't a request.

"All right. Just keep us in the loop," Jerry agreed reluctantly as Sam yelled, "Nash!" Within a minute, she had fallen into step behind him and they were heading down the stairs.

* * *

_Hands tied in front. Ankles tied. Cold, hard floor. Most likely linoleum. Pretty dark,_ Andy noted to herself as she squinted, trying to figure out where she was and whether anyone else was in the room with her. Her head was pounding, but she tried to push past the pain. She wiggled her hands. _Rope. Loose rope. Same for the ankles. _

There was a door across the room, denoted by a thin sliver of light that was visible underneath. Any light in the room was coming from there. Everything else was dark. Outside the door, she heard a few thumps and the muffled sounds of voices—one possibly female and one definitely male.

Briefly, she wondered what motive someone would have for kidnapping her. She thought about some of the more difficult cases she'd worked during the year-and-a-half she'd been at 15, wondering if someone she'd arrested might be holding a grudge. That line of thought led nowhere as soon as she realized how long the list of potential suspects was. She'd arrested a lot of people since she became a cop, and most of them had been less than enthusiastic about it.

Andy tried to recall what her abductor looked like. Tall, beefy, balding, wearing a plaid flannel shirt . . . . As she thought over the possibilities of who the guy might be and what interest he might have in her, the door opened and he stood on the threshold, silhouetted by fluorescent lighting from the room outside. Andy blinked rapidly as bright light washed over the room through the open doorway. Now that she could see her surroundings, she realized it was a small room, mostly empty except for a table against the wall across from her and a few dilapidated shelves in one corner. Andy also noticed what looked like two boarded up windows. No light was coming in around the edges, so she had to assume they were either boarded up really well or it was still dark outside. If the latter were the case, it gave her an idea of how long she'd been there. It had either been a full day, which seemed unlikely, or it was still nighttime.

"She's awake," the guy called over his shoulder into the outer room. The information elicited no response from the other person. If Andy hadn't heard him talking to someone else before he opened the door, she might have assumed he was talking to himself. In a show of force, the guy stomped across the room toward Andy and pulled her up to a sitting position against the wall.

"Hey! Watch it!" she yelled when he shoved her a bit too hard.

"Quiet," he boomed in a deep voice, standing up to his full height.

"Why am I here?" she demanded.

"I told you to be quiet," he warned her again. "If you can't follow simple instructions, I'll make sure you stay quiet. Got it?"

Andy sat sullenly against the wall, not wanting to find out what his threat actually meant.

"No talking in here and no moving around," he ordered her as he slammed the door behind him, plunging the room back into darkness. Andy heard a click on the other side of the door and assumed he had locked it.

She started working her wrists against the rope, trying to loosen the restraints. She knew she'd be able to get out of them eventually, but it was a question of whether she could do it before the guy came back or something worse happened to her. As Andy's mind shifted to what the "worse" might be, she tried to refocus on the rope around her wrists. She didn't know what she'd do when she managed to free her hands, but it was a goal to work toward. She needed a goal so she didn't feel quite so helpless.

Andy heard the muffled sounds outside again as the guy had a brief conversation with the other person. Immediately thereafter, she heard a door slam and the distant sound of a car starting, leaving her to conclude that at least one of her captors had left the building.

Some time passed—Andy had no idea how long—and then she heard the click of the lock again and the door opened. The big guy dropped a bottle of water and a plate with a sandwich on it in front of her.

"How am I supposed to eat if my hands are tied?" she asked him resentfully.

"Figure it out."

"What happens when I need to use the bathroom?" she demanded, receiving no response other than an angry glare.

As he turned to leave, Andy spoke up again. "You should know there are people looking for me. They're gonna find me."

"No, I don't know that," he sneered.

"All I'm saying is, you can't just go around kidnapping cops and expect no one to do anything about it," she mentioned offhandedly. She noted the look of surprise on his face at the mention of her being a cop and realized he hadn't known. So that pretty much shot down her theory that someone she'd arrested was behind the kidnapping.

"Cop or not - no one's gonna find you," he mocked her. "So you might as well just give up and start behaving."

"Why would I do that?" she laughed wryly, trying to rattle him. When his jaw tightened, she could tell she was hitting her mark and drew some small amount of satisfaction from that.

"Just eat," he growled as he walked out of the room. Andy heard the lock click, and she rolled her eyes.

She decided against eating the sandwich. At least, she planned to wait until she absolutely couldn't hold out any longer. She didn't know why she was there, and she didn't trust anything about the situation—including the sandwich. The water was sealed in a bottle, so she decided she'd give it a try as soon as her hands were free. At the very least, her growing thirst would provide an incentive to work fast.

Andy leaned her head back against the wall and fiddled with the ropes, feeling powerless and confused. As she sat in the dark, her mind went to Sam and she wondered whether he knew she was missing yet. She wondered where he was and what he was doing. At the thought of him, she bit back a whimper, refusing to sink that low. Still, she couldn't stop herself from whispering, "Sam, please find me."


	16. Chapter 16

**I can't believe we're at Chapter 16. After doing this, I have so much respect for people who post these long multi-chapter stories (actually, I have tons of respect for anyone who posts on here, regardless of length). **

**So let me give you an idea of where this is going. This chapter is a bit dense. There's a lot packed in here. I suppose I could've separated it into two chapters, but I wanted to move things along. In the next chapter things start to look better. There will definitely be good things happening by the end of that chapter. Chapter 18 is technically the last chapter and has a more relaxed vibe. Then, there is a really long Epilogue that I may end up splitting into two parts (not sure about that yet). **

**As always, I can't say enough thank yous for reading, reviewing, following and favoriting. I really appreciate all of your support. **

* * *

"Did any of the neighbors hear anything?" Sam asked Traci as they got into the squad car outside of Andy's building.

"A woman from another floor remembers seeing a big guy skulking around in the lobby around six-thirty last night. Nothing to tie him to Andy, but she thought it seemed 'off.' She agreed to come down to the station to try and i.d. the guy in case he's somehow involved. Probably a long shot, but you never know," Traci told him. "Other than that, no one we talked to saw or heard anything, but they probably weren't home. If Andy left the station at six o'clock like you said, she would've been home before seven. And the people in both apartments on her floor didn't get home until after nine. Where are we going?" she asked suddenly as he whipped the car out into the street.

Instead of answering her, Sam pulled out his phone. Scrolling quickly through his contacts, he hit Send and waited. When no one answered, he ended the call and banged his fist against the steering wheel, causing it to vibrate from the impact. Beside him, Traci flinched but otherwise remained quiet.

"Sorry," he mumbled. "I need to get in touch with one of my contacts—a guy named Arnie. He might've heard something that could lead us to where they're keeping Andy."

"Who is 'they?'" Traci asked.

"Someone connected to Davenport," Sam answered automatically.

"So you're assuming one of Davenport's people has Andy . . . ."

"You saw the text, Nash."

"Yeah, but there was nothing to connect it to Andy's disappearance. It could be a coincidence," Traci pointed out.

"It's not a coincidence," Sam said firmly. "It's the only thing that makes sense. I'm testifying against the guy this week, there's a break-in at the Prosecutor's office two nights ago and now Andy turns up missing. It's the most plausible theory, and we have to start somewhere."

"I'm not saying I don't agree with you," Traci said carefully, "but let's talk this through. Let's say they figured out your name and found out where you live. How did they make the connection to Andy?"

"We'd been staying at my place for a few days, and yesterday morning when we got up, she needed some stuff from her apartment, so I dropped her off on my way into the station. If they were following us, they saw us together and they would've known where she lives. Someone was probably waiting for her when she got home last night." As he ran though the sequence of events, Sam found himself wishing he hadn't picked up the extra shift. If he'd been going home, they would have been together. He ran a hand across the back of his neck, trying to relieve some of the tension that was building up there as he thought of all the "what-ifs" that could have kept Andy safe.

As if she were reading his mind, Traci spoke up from the passenger seat. "Swarek, we're going to find her."

Sam sighed. "We just need to focus on what we do know and use that to figure out the rest," he reasoned aloud, more for himself than for Traci. He was fighting hard to keep a clear head. He knew he'd be of no use to Andy if he let his emotions get in the way.

Sam steered into the alley behind a bar and stopped the car abruptly. The place looked like it was closed up for the night, which made sense because it was almost four a.m.

"What are we doing here?" Traci asked when he didn't get out of the car.

"I need you to go in and find out if Arnie Crapo is in there. If he's not, see if they know where he is," Sam told her.

"Me? He's your guy, Swarek. Don't you think he'd rather talk to you?" she suggested.

"The guy's a _confidential _informant. The thing about those guys is that they usually like to remain anonymous," Sam responded sarcastically. "If I walk in there in uniform I might as well hang a sign around his neck telling everyone he's on the payroll."

"Okay, I get it," Traci said calmly. "What should I say?" She unbuckled her seat belt and started getting out of the car.

"I don't know, Nash. Make up something. You're good at thinking on your feet," he said impatiently, urging her out of the car. "Go on. They'll still be cleaning up inside from earlier tonight."

Traci got out of the car and shut the door gently, drawing in a deep breath before marching up to the back door of the bar. When the doorknob turned easily in her hand, she glanced back at Sam with a relieved expression and disappeared inside.

Ten minutes later, she climbed back into the car and handed Sam a yellow piece of paper with an address scribbled on it. "He's at his sister's place."

"Thanks," he said appreciatively, taking the paper from her and scrutinizing the address.

As they drove out of the alley, Traci mused, "So this Arnie guy, I'm guessing he's kind of a loser."

"I guess," Sam admitted with a shrug. "Why?"

"It's just something you might've mentioned before I walked in there pretending to be his girlfriend. The bartender looked at me like I had three heads. I take it the guy isn't exactly burning up the dating scene."

"Probably not," Sam acknowledged, focusing most of his attention on finding the sister's place. "You must've been convincing enough because you got the address."

"Well, we lucked out because the bartender just put him in a cab an hour ago, so it was still fresh in his mind," she explained. "And beyond that, I think he just wanted to get me out of there so he could go home for the night."

Sam pulled onto the sister's street and started reading the numbers on the houses. When he found the right place, he passed it and turned into a side street two blocks down. Before getting out of the car, he hastily took off everything but his black T-shirt and pants, tossing the rest of the uniform into a heap on the floorboard. "Best I can do," he muttered to himself. "Should've answered the phone when I called."

Sam got out of the car quietly, thankful that it was still dark outside. The sun would be coming up soon, though, so they needed to get in and out before someone noticed the car parked down the street. When Traci opened her door, Sam shook his head. "You're staying in the car, Nash."

"I don't think so," she responded emphatically.

"Fine. But stay behind me when we get there. And don't talk." He took off down the sidewalk, forcing her to jog to catch up with him.

When they were two houses down, Sam slipped off the sidewalk into the neighbor's yard and motioned for Traci to follow him. He walked all the way through to the neighbor's backyard, crossing over until he got to the sister's place. Approaching the back of her house, Sam pulled open the screen door and knocked softly, hoping to avoid drawing unnecessary attention. When no one answered, he knocked louder. By that point, his patience was wearing thin, as was his interest in keeping a low profile. Finally, a grim-looking woman in her late forties came to the door, clearly annoyed at what had obviously been an interruption to her sleep.

"We need to see Arnie," Sam said immediately.

"I don't know where he is." She rolled her eyes and leaned against the door frame with her arms crossed.

"We know he got dropped off here an hour ago," Sam informed her in a bored tone. "Tell him Swarek's outside. I'm pretty sure he'll want to come out and talk to me."

"Hold on," she grumbled, shoving the door closed and locking it. Minutes passed before they heard rustling and some loud whispers on the other side of the door. When it opened again, Arnie was standing in front of them, looking every bit like someone who'd just been pulled out from underneath a bar and thrown into the back of a cab.

"Sammy," Arnie slurred, reaching out a hand and planting it weakly on Sam's shoulder.

"Arnie, we need to talk. Are you coming out or do you want us to come in?"

Behind him, his sister cleared her throat. "I'll come out," he decided. "Sheila," he explained, glaring back into the room at his sister, "doesn't like it when company shows up unannounced." Arnie edged out the door and pulled it shut, leading them around to the side of the house. His gait was unsteady, and as he rounded the corner, he narrowly missed running into a small bush. Completely oblivious to the near-miss, he mumbled, "What's up, man? It's been a while . . . ."

Looking around, Sam noted that a thick hedge blocked the view of the side yard from the street, giving them enough privacy for a brief conversation away from prying eyes. "I need to know what you've heard about any of Davenport's guys. Any recent activity? Anything . . . ." Sam told him brusquely, leaving the statement open-ended because honestly, they could be looking for anyone.

"Come on, man. You know they're all gone. Most of 'em are locked up—either couldn't make bail or the court wouldn't let 'em out."

"So you're telling me _nothing_ has been going on. Everyone's just gone?"

"Isn't that the idea?" Arnie asked, attempting a smile but quickly wiping it away when he saw the deadly look on Sam's face. "Yeah, there's nothing going on. The only person I ever see is Lorena. You know, Marco's girlfriend . . . . I see her around now and then with some big guy—probably hired muscle. Davenport always took good care of her, so it makes sense that she'd want someone around to protect her now that he's gone."

"Lorena Sparks," Sam said, rolling the idea around in his head. "Don't know much about her."

"Me either, man. All I know is she was pretty broken up when Davenport got taken in. My sister cuts hair—she's real good at it—and she does Lorena's sometimes. She said when he went away Lorena took it real hard."

"Is Sparks still living at Davenport's house?" Sam asked.

"Yeah, she's still there. Why would anybody wanna leave it? The place is amazing."

"Okay, see what else you can find out about her—_fast_," Sam insisted. "And call me with anything you get."

"Sure thing, Sammy. I just, you know, could use some money to float me for a while," he whined.

"Get me the information, and I'll take care of it," Sam said sternly. "You know where to reach me." Sam slipped into the backyard again, pulling Traci with him.

"It's no wonder that bartender didn't believe me," Traci griped on the way back to the car. "Your guy probably hasn't been on a date for at least a decade. I mean, personal hygiene's clearly not a priority."

"To each his own, Nash," Sam responded absently, deciding that their next stop would be Davenport's house. Thankfully, he'd been there once to make a delivery, so he knew exactly where he was going.

As they drove through town, the sun was on the horizon and Sam couldn't help but feel time slipping away from them. He was supposed to be testifying at nine a.m. the following morning, which meant they had one day to find Andy. He didn't even want to think about what would happen if they didn't get to her in time. Even if he refused to testify, there was no guarantee that the person who was holding her would release her.

While he drove, Traci called and checked in with Jerry. Although they hadn't received any concrete information to tie the two together, the team was proceeding as if Andy's disappearance were related to Sam's testimony. They were already checking out all of Davenport's holdings. When Traci told Jerry they were going over to question Lorena Sparks, he added her name to the list and said they'd look for any properties listed in her name, too.

"Jerry's been in touch with someone over at the Prosecutor's office," Traci updated Sam after she finished talking to Jerry. "They want to keep everything quiet until we know more. They did tell him that Lorena Sparks isn't appearing as a witness for either side in the trial. Apparently, Sparks claims she had little to no involvement in Davenport's business dealings. In fact, she told the Prosecutor she would never have been with him if she'd known what he had going on and that she thought he deserved whatever he's got coming to him. And the defense is not calling her as a witness for whatever reason—presumably because she appears to be unsympathetic."

"Or maybe because she knows more about his business than she's letting on," Sam surmised. "Regardless, she seems to be contradicting herself."

"Yeah. According to your guy, she's completely broken up and angry about what happened, but publicly, she's telling people he's getting what he deserves."

When they pulled up in front of Davenport's townhouse, Traci looked up at the tall, brick façade. "Nice place," she commented.

Sam pulled on his full uniform again, figuring that it made him look more official.

"So we're not mentioning the kidnapping?" Traci confirmed.

"Nope. We're here to get information, not give it," Sam said. "If she's somehow involved, she needs to think she has the edge. She'll be more likely to get sloppy and make a mistake."

"So what reason do we give for being here if it's not because of Andy?" Traci asked skeptically.

"Don't know," Sam murmured as he got out of the car. "Let's just see what happens."

"It's kind of early," Traci pointed out as they approached the door of the townhouse.

"Tough," Sam said flatly. "That's what happens when you live with someone who's involved in organized crime. You get unexpected social calls at odd hours." Showing no mercy, he rammed his thumb against the doorbell.

They heard nothing but silence. Just as Sam was preparing to ring the bell again, a dog started yipping on the other side of the door and they heard footsteps coming toward them.

The door opened and Lorena Sparks greeted them with a puzzled expression. In spite of any confusion she might have been experiencing, she didn't seem all that bothered by their presence at such an early hour. Instead of the pajama-clad homeowner one might expect to answer the door at such an early hour, Lorena was fully-dressed, looking like she'd just stepped out of a salon. Not only was her fluffy blonde bob neatly-coiffed, but she was wearing makeup. "Good morning, Officer." She smiled at Sam before turning her attention to Traci and eying her street clothes curiously.

"Lorena Sparks?" Sam asked, even though he knew exactly who she was. He'd seen her a handful of times and would've expected her to recognize him, too. The fact that she showed no recognition told him she probably wasn't going to make things easy on them. "I'm Officer Swarek and this is Officer Nash. We were hoping you'd be able to answer a few questions for us."

'We're sorry to come by at such an early hour," Traci interjected.

"Not a problem," Lorena responded, waving away any concern. "Why don't you come in and have a seat? Melly and I just finished breakfast," she explained, pointing at the tiny white dog that was clinging to her heels.

"You're an early riser," Sam noted as they walked past her into the house. He immediately noticed a coolness about the place, from the large travertine tiles on the floor to the icy grey walls.

"I like to get the day started early," Lorena claimed. She clicked the door shut and ushered them toward a small sitting room just off the foyer. Her heels tapped lightly across the smooth floors as she led them into the room and motioned toward the couch. Settling into an arm chair across from them, she lifted the tiny dog onto her lap and crossed her ankles primly in front of her.

"I find that a lot can be accomplished before the rest of the world even gets out of bed," Lorena remarked. She regarded them with an appraising smile. "So what brings the two of you to my doorstep?"

Traci looked over at Sam, obviously waiting for him to take the lead. "I'm sure you're aware that Marco Davenport's trial is starting," he began.

Lorena nodded but offered nothing further.

"We just have a few loose ends to tie up in that regard," Sam told her vaguely.

"Sure," she agreed. "If you've read the reports you must already know that I had no involvement in Marco's business dealings. I doubt I have anything meaningful to offer, but I'd love to help out in any way I can. I certainly never suspected that he had such an elaborate operation going on. I would never have condoned it if I'd known."

"According to various sources, Marco was always very considerate of your needs. Took good care of you—is still taking good care of you from the looks of this place," Sam amended as he looked around the well-furnished room.

"I suppose," she said casually. "You must know that they froze all of his assets after the arrest."

Sam laughed dryly. "Yeah, well, the interesting thing about that is that they can only freeze what they know about."

Her only response was a minute shrug of her head, but he did notice that her smile tightened almost imperceptibly.

"You two were together for years, weren't you?" Sam continued.

"Quite a few."

"It must've really hurt to lose someone you love like that," he observed. "He'll be going away for a long time if the Prosecution has its way."

"It did hurt," she confirmed. "But there's a limit to what you're willing to do for someone, even when you love them."

"Not really," Sam responded automatically.

She inclined her head toward him and smiled politely. "For me, I draw the line at doing anything elicit. If I had known what he was involved in—which I did not—I wouldn't have stayed with him."

"Well, it's good to know that there are still people out there with a conscience," Sam said.

"You're right, Officer. We're few and far between these days."

"Will you be attending any of the trial?" Traci asked. "To support Marco?"

"Probably not," she answered noncommittally. She waited a beat and then sat forward in the chair, stroking the dog in her lap. "I do need to get my day started, if you don't mind. I'm sorry I don't have any more information to offer. I already told the Prosecutor everything I know, which is basically nothing. I wish I could be more helpful."

"That's okay," Sam said, evoking an air of confidence that he didn't necessarily feel. "I think we got what we came for."

Lorena surveyed him with a serious expression before leading them toward the front door. As she walked out of the room, Sam noticed a flash of gold dangling from a chain around her neck.

"Well, it was nice to see you again," Sam said, regarding her coolly as he flexed his jaw.

"We've met?" she asked with mild interest. "Where would that have been? I apologize. I do have a problem remembering faces sometimes."

"No big deal. We only saw each other in passing once or twice," Sam said, not bothering to flesh out the details. By that point, he was fairly certain she knew exactly how she knew him.

As he and Traci walked across the threshold, Lorena spoke up, "Officer Swarek, maybe you're right about what you said earlier. Perhaps we will do anything to protect the ones we love."

Sam turned as he hit the bottom porch step and locked eyes with her. For a split second, the malice in her gaze was unmistakable. Then, it cleared and she was all politeness again. "Have a good day," she trilled as she shut the door behind them.

"She's definitely hiding something," Traci observed when they got back to the car. "Why did you needle her like that? If she's involved, I thought you wanted her to think she has the edge."

"I changed my mind," he said simply. "She's wearing Marco's ring around her neck. The guy never takes it off. He was probably even wearing it the day he was arrested. No clue how he got it back after the arrest or how she got it, but it's pretty clear that she's been in contact with him."

"No woman's gonna wear a guy's ring if she doesn't care about him," Traci agreed. "Do you think she has Andy?"

"Don't know, but she's the best lead we have right now and time's running out," Sam reminded her grimly. "If she thinks we suspect something she might make a move. Hopefully, it's not a smart move. Call Jerry and have him get Diaz and Epstein over here to watch the house."

"You don't think Andy's in there, do you?" Traci asked. "We didn't exactly get the grand tour."

"I doubt it. Sparks seemed too relaxed. If she had Andy in the house, I don't think she would've let us in," Sam reasoned, trying to maintain a calm façade as he thought about Andy and what she might be going through at that very moment. He tried to tell himself that she'd probably be safe until the next day. After that, he wasn't so sure.

"Jerry's gonna try to use the text you got to get a warrant to search Davenport's house," Traci said, breaking into his thoughts.

"Doubt they'll find anything, but at least we'll be able to cross his place off the list," Sam said.

"What about us? What are we doing now?"

"We're going back to the station to see what we can dig up on Sparks. Properties, known associates, anything that might lead to something . . . ."

* * *

Andy focused on the sliver of light beneath the door. Occasionally, a shadow would pass through it and she knew the guy, or someone else, was moving around outside of the room. She hadn't heard any more talking, so she didn't think the second person had come back.

As time passed, faint traces of light bled through around the edges of the boarded-up windows, confirming what Andy had hoped—that they were outside windows. Not only did the light help orient her to the passage of time, but it was possible that she might be able to get someone's attention on the outside if the opportunity presented itself.

When the lock clicked and the guy suddenly appeared in the doorway, she jumped, startled by the unexpected intrusion. He hoisted her up with both arms and unceremoniously hauled her out of the room. Andy was too taken aback to even put up a fight. He carried her quickly through an anteroom that looked like an office, across a hallway and into a bathroom, setting her down on her feet in front of a toilet. Andy curled her lip as she surveyed the dingy bathroom. It was in desperate need of a mop and a bucket of disinfectant, but she hadn't seen a bathroom since the prior evening and she acknowledged that she was in no position to be finicky.

"You've got one minute," the guy grumbled. To her surprise, he backed out of the room and moved around the corner out of her line of sight. "And don't get any ideas. I'm right here," he said gruffly from just outside the door. It was open, but at least he wasn't standing in it, Andy thought, as she made quick work of her bathroom break. Thankfully, her wrists were loose enough that she was able to make her hands work for her. Her feet were still tied, but that hardly mattered because when she finished and flushed the toilet, the guy came back in and picked her up, carrying her roughly back to the dark room. He dropped her on the floor with a thud, barely giving Andy time to orient herself in the dim light before he slammed the door and locked it.

Having taken care of her most immediate need, Andy turned her attention back to the bottle of water on the floor. The possibility of quenching her mounting thirst buoyed her spirits and gave her the added push she needed to finish off the rope around her wrists. As soon as it dropped away, she felt around on the ground until her hand ran across the bottle. She twisted it open hastily and downed several big gulps before forcing herself to stop. She was dying for a drink, but she didn't know when her next trip to the bathroom might be, so she drank sparingly.

The big guy came back in several times during the course of what Andy assumed must have been the morning. Each time, she kept the rope taut across her wrists so that he wouldn't see that her hands were no longer tied. She gave up on trying to question him concerning his motives for kidnapping her. She assumed she'd been targeted, but obviously, it wasn't because she was a cop if he hadn't even realized it when he kidnapped her. For lack of any other way to spend her time, she thought of Sam, her Dad and her friends, wondering if she'd ever see them again.

With her hands freed, Andy considered what her next move should be. An opportunity finally presented itself when the guy brought in her lunch. At least, she assumed it was lunch. It was the second meal he had delivered. He didn't seem like the type to exercise much independent thought, so she assumed he was thinking along the lines of breakfast, lunch and dinner offerings. And that meant that when the second meal arrived, it was most likely mid-day. It wasn't the lunch itself that presented the opportunity so much as the fact that he forgot to lock the door when he left. When Andy failed to hear the familiar click of the lock, she froze. She waited several beats before crawling across the floor and turning the doorknob slowly to confirm that it was, in fact, unlocked. She told herself it was a stupid idea, but what other chance did she have? Andy knew she at least owed it to herself to exercise a little self-help and try to get a sense of where she was. The last thing she wanted to do was be a victim, sitting in a dark room feeling sorry for herself while she waited for someone to come in and end it all. So she nimbly untied the rope around her ankles and stood up. She edged the door open cautiously, standing to the side as she peered out into the room through the crack between the door and the frame.

Her first glimpse confirmed what she'd seen earlier. It looked like an old office area—fluorescent lighting, ancient linoleum floors covered in dust and grime, some random urns and vases scattered around on a desk and a low shelf buckling beneath the weight of an old cash register. Andy listened for any sounds and heard nothing, so she crept out of the dark room and inched across the office, coming to a stop when she reached the open door into the hallway. Listening again, she heard nothing and stuck her head slowly out the door, looking back and forth. To her left the hallway opened into what appeared to be a large open space with some natural light. To the right, the hallway was considerably darker. There were two doors just past the office, one of which was the bathroom door just across the hall from where she was standing. The other door was more of a mystery. It was on the same side of the hallway as the office. Just beyond that at the end of the hallway was a third door that looked like it probably opened to the outside. She couldn't be sure, though, and the natural light coming from the other direction seemed like a more promising proposition. So she crept out into the hallway and almost immediately found herself at the opening to a large room that looked like an empty storefront. At least, that was what she deduced from the counters and shelving, as well as the wall of windows at the other end of the room. The windows had been covered over with paper, but it was thin and ripped in places, allowing a generous amount of light to flow through.

As Andy took a cautious step into the room, a heavy weight suddenly clamped down on her shoulder and pulled her backwards. She screamed, feeling like she was reliving the scene from the hallway outside of her apartment the prior evening. This time, however, the guy tossed her over his shoulder, knocking the breath out of her in the process. With no thought for Andy's comfort, he hauled her back through the office and dumped her into the corner of the dark room, which she now assumed was some sort of storage room for the store. She landed on her back, drawing in several ragged breaths as she forced oxygen back into her lungs.

"That was a big mistake," he snarled at her. "You're just lucky my Boss said not to hurt you—yet."

_And that was a big mistake_, Andy thought. _You never should have told me you have no immediate plans to hurt me. _Still, she wondered what he meant by "yet" and how long she had.

Using his size against her, the guy shoved a knee against her abdomen to hold her down while he reached for the rope that had been tied around her wrists. Andy writhed around beneath him and when the opportunity presented itself, she sunk her teeth into his meaty hand.

He yelped loudly and forced her face against the wall, wrenching her arms behind her and tying them tightly with the rope. Andy cringed as the rope cut into her wrists, but she gritted through the pain, refusing to give him the satisfaction of knowing that he was hurting her. Within minutes, the guy had her ankles tied up again, too. Andy looked over her shoulder at him, sending him a look of pure hatred.

He stood over her for several seconds, assessing his handy work. When he seemed satisfied that she wasn't going anywhere, he stomped out of the room and locked the door.

"Ropes around the ankles and wrists. Real original," Andy muttered as she dragged herself up to a sitting position and leaned back against the wall. She sighed and started trying to loosen the ropes all over again.


	17. Chapter 17

**At the beginning of Chapter 16, I talked about what was coming up in Chapter 17. Plans have changed. Chapter 17 was running long, so I split it up into two chapters-17 and 18. I think it makes for an easier read. Not to worry, though. I'm posting both chapters now, so please take note of the fact that there are two new chapters instead of one. After that, I'm planning for one final chapter and an Epilogue. :)**

* * *

Traci walked into the kitchen at 15 and sat down at the table across from Sam. He had his head in his hands and as she reached out and touched his arm, he looked over at her wearily. The strain from the fruitless search for Andy was evident on his face, as was the fact that he hadn't slept for almost two days.

"Swarek, why don't you lie down for a few minutes? You need some sleep." When Sam only regarded her with a blank stare, she persisted. "You won't be of any use to Andy if you can't hold your head up off the table."

He shook his head resolutely and leaned back in the chair, folding his arms across his chest in a show of determination. "We've been chasing leads all day, and we've turned over nothing. Davenport's house was a dead end. We've got nothing on Sparks. We're no closer to finding Andy than we were when we first found out she was missing. And you're telling me to curl up on the couch and take a nap?" He swiped a hand across his face in frustration.

"We've still got cars out scouring Davenport's holdings—warehouses, offices, storage buildings. If he or Lorena is linked with a property in any way, it's being checked."

"I know," Sam responded impatiently. "I need to be out there, though. I can't just sit around here doing nothing. And what if Sparks isn't even involved? We might be on the wrong track."

"Earlier today you felt pretty good about the link to Sparks, and I think you need to continue to trust your instincts," Traci told him. "Andy would."

"The problem is, we're running out of time. If I don't testify in the morning—and I'm not going to if we don't get her back before then—what does that mean for her? When nine a.m. comes and goes and I don't take the stand, her value as a hostage plummets. What happens then? Do we actually think they'll just drop her off at the front door?"

"I don't know," Traci said sadly. "The Prosecutor's gonna talk to the Judge in the morning. They may even try to put on a different witness to buy some time," she surmised.

"Doesn't matter," he muttered. "My scheduled testimony tomorrow may be the only thing that's keeping her alive. We have to find her before then or everything starts to unravel."

"All I know is that we're working every possible angle," Traci noted, "and Dov and Chris are still sitting on the house in case Sparks goes anywhere."

"We still don't know anything else about her?" he asked dejectedly, knowing the answer before she said it.

"No," she admitted. "She's not in the system. Never even had a parking ticket. Been with Davenport for at least ten years, if not longer, which is probably why so little is known about her."

"Yeah, people like Davenport like to keep a low profile, and that extends to their close associates," Sam conceded. "So what you're telling me is that there's nothing new."

"Look, Swarek," Traci said bluntly. "I get it. I'm freaking out, too. We're all just trying to hold it together. But I have to believe we're going to find her in time. It's Andy. We _will_ get her back." Traci gave him a look of conviction as she stood up and walked out of the kitchen, leaving Sam alone again.

Feeling the heavy weight of desperation mixed with fatigue, he rested his arms on the table and dropped his head on top of them. Within minutes he dozed off in spite of his best efforts to remain awake.

Sam had been asleep for almost an hour when his phone rang. Feeling disoriented, he jerked his head up off of the table and snatched the phone out of his pocket.

"Swarek," he barked into the mouthpiece.

"Don't testify if you want to see her again." The gruff male voice issued the simple ultimatum, and then the line went dead. Sam slammed the phone against the table and stood up, knocking over his chair in the process. He felt consumed by his sheer powerlessness in the situation. Someone else was pulling the strings and unless they found her soon, he knew he might never see Andy again. Grabbing his phone, Sam stormed out of the kitchen to report the call to Jerry or Frank. He already knew it would've been made from a burner phone and that it would be untraceable, but he had to have them check it anyway.

* * *

"Well, at least we know motive for sure now," Jerry pointed out when Sam found him in the detective's office and told him about the call. He scratched his chin thoughtfully and looked at Sam. "Are you all right, man?"

"Would you be all right if it were Nash?" Sam asked pointedly.

"Absolutely not," Jerry admitted. "I can't even begin to know how this feels. We're doing everything we can to get her back, though, and you've gotta believe that we will."

"I'm trying," Sam assured him without much conviction. "The problem is, we still don't know anything. She's out there somewhere waiting for us to find her—waiting for _me_ to find her—and I can't help but feel like she's slipping away."

"Look at it this way. It has to be someone connected to Davenport. We didn't know that for sure until ten minutes ago, but you got the call and now we do. We just need to keep at it. And we know that Sparks is the primary suspect."

"We don't actually know that. It could be anyone with ties to Davenport," Sam reminded him. "It was a male voice on the phone."

"Um," Jerry began hesitantly, "we're pretty sure Sparks is involved. . . ."

"What do you mean? Why are you 'pretty sure?'" Sam asked suspiciously.

"We got a positive i.d. on the guy from McNally's lobby," Jerry explained with a sigh. "The tenant who saw him came in and looked through some photos—lots of photos, as it turns out. Took her a while to nail it down. Anyway, she's pretty sure it was a guy named Eddie Harper. He's in the system. Has several assaults to his name. Not exactly a model citizen." When Sam crossed his arms and stared at Jerry impatiently, waiting for more, Jerry swallowed and plowed ahead. "According to his neighbors, he just got a new gig working for Lorena Sparks."

"You knew about this and didn't tell me?" Sam descended on Jerry, visibly seething.

Jerry winced at his friend's reaction but stood firm. "Calm down, Brother. We just found out. We sent uniforms over to the guy's house, and he wasn't home, so we talked to a few of his neighbors. We didn't want to drop it on you until we were sure about the connection. I mean, the guy has a record. If he's the one who has McNally, it's not exactly a good thing. We didn't want you to worry."

"Too late for that," Sam said bitterly.

"At least we finally have a confirmed connection to Sparks," Jerry said, making an obvious attempt to put a positive spin on the situation. "Her guy was seen in the building right before McNally disappeared, and that's just too much of a coincidence. It doesn't sit well with me or anyone else. The only problem now is that we can't find the guy. And we don't want to move in on Sparks yet because she could still lead us to him. Right now, she thinks she has the upper hand—"

"She _does_ have the upper hand," Sam insisted.

"Not necessarily. She doesn't think we know anything. She's probably feeling fairly confident right about now. With any luck, she'll get cocky and do something stupid."

"I'm going back out," Sam growled, walking toward the door of the detective's office.

"And do what?" Jerry asked. "We've got people all over the place looking for McNally. There's nothing you can do, Sammy."

"I can't just sit here and let the clock run out," Sam called back as he walked down the stairs away from Jerry's office. He had absolutely no plan, but what he'd told Jerry was the truth. He couldn't wait around and do nothing. So he made the decision to check out every place he could think of that had been associated with Davenport. They were all on the list of locations already being searched, but he wanted to conduct his own search in case they'd missed anything.

* * *

During the course of the afternoon, Andy slipped into a light sleep punctuated by brief periods of wakefulness. Each time she woke up, she tried to focus her thoughts on some of her happier memories before drifting off again. If this were truly the end, she wanted her mind to be filled with images of happier times. Learning to ride a bike, getting ready for her first school dance, hanging out with the other rookies at the Penny, hearing Sam tell her he loved her for the first time . . .

"_Where do you want it?" Sam asked as he stood in the middle of the park, looking uncomfortable beneath the weight of an over-sized picnic basket and blanket. Andy surveyed the area, noting with mild disappointment that a only few patches of green grass still lingered beneath the mostly-barren trees. _

"_How about over there?" she suggested, pointing to a large oak tree not far from them that still had a few of its leaves clinging to the branches. She smiled over her shoulder at Sam as he trailed behind her. "So are you wondering what's in the basket?" she asked.  
_

_"Best guess? Cement blocks," he groaned, "or a spare tire." Arching an eyebrow, he asked, "Did you pack an entire ham in this thing?"_

_"_No_," she laughed. "And you're ridiculous." She knew the grumbling was mostly just an act. She'd spent enough time with Sam to know when he was truly irritated, and this was not one of those times.  
_

"_Haven't been on a picnic in years," he reflected as he put down the basket with a thud and stretched his arms above his head dramatically. He unfolded the blanket and fluffed it in the air before spreading it out beneath the tree. "And a picnic in late October . . . that's actually a first."_

_"Well, stick with me and there'll be a lot more picnics in your future," Andy promised._

_"I'm gonna hold you to that." _

"_At least it's a warm day. We won't have many more of these," Andy observed as she __knelt __on the ground beside the basket and opened it. "Just wait 'til you see what I've got in here. As picnic baskets go, this one's full of some pretty awesome stuff."_

"_Bring it on, McNally," he said, settling on the blanket beside her and craning his neck to see what she had in the basket.  
_

"_Hope you're hungry," she teased him. Within minutes, she managed to produce an ambitious selection of picnic fare that included crackers and cheese, sandwiches, two batches of homemade cookies, cut-up fruit and veggies, potato salad and chips. She'd even brought a bag of jelly beans and a loaf of banana bread._

"_It is just the two of us, right?" he clarified.  
_

"_Yes." She grinned at him saucily. "I wanted to have a variety. It's our first picnic together. It should be special."_

"_So I shouldn't expect this kind of spread every time?"_

"_We'll see," she said noncommittally as she leaned toward him and planted an easy kiss on his lips.  
_

_As it turned out, t__hey made a decent-sized dent in the food_. Finally, Sam announced that he couldn't eat another bite and flopped onto his back beneath the tree. He looked over at Andy and patted the space beside him on the blanket.

_"Hold on. Let me clean up a little," she told him as she began stuffing their leftovers back into the picnic basket. _

_"It can wait," he insisted, pulling her down onto the blanket next to him. She smiled as he__ reached over and laced his fingers through hers, resting their joined hands on his chest. Silence settled around them __as they stared up into the tangled mix of branches above their heads. _After a while, Andy shivered. Sam rolled over onto his elbow and looked down at her. "Cold?" he asked.  


"_Just a little," she admitted._

"_Should we go?" _

"_Not just yet," she said with a content sigh as she rolled into him and buried her face in his chest. The satisfying feeling of having Sam's hand wrapped securely around hers while the fading afternoon sun washed over them made her want to cling to the moment just a little while longer.  
_

"_Hold on. I'll be right back," he said, getting up and jogging toward his truck. When he came back, he had a second blanket tucked underneath his arm. With an obvious willingness to do whatever it took to keep her warm, he spread the blanket over Andy and then himself, tucking it in tightly around her and pulling it up to their shoulders. Rolling onto his side, he wrapped his arms around her and asked, "Better?"_

"_Much," she agreed, inching toward him until their faces were almost touching. _

_As Sam traced light circles on her back with his fingertips, she felt the warmth of his touch through her sweater. After a while, he observed casually, "From the first time I saw you, I knew you'd be important." He planted a soft kiss on her forehead._

_Andy edged back far enough to get a glimpse of his face. "You mean when I was being held at gunpoint?" she asked with a hint of disbelief.  
_

_Sam chuckled and pulled her back into him. "Well maybe not then exactly, but not long after . . . ."_

_"So I'm important?" _

_"Very," he assured her, kissing her on the tip of her nose. "McNally, you've changed me in ways I never expected."_

_"Sam," Andy smiled tearfully as she let his words sink in. "That's the nicest thing anyone has ever said to me. I never expected-"_

_He silenced her with a finger over her lips. "I wasn't finished. You need to hear this," he said in a tone of mild reproof as a small smile played at the corners of his mouth. "Most of my early memories were unhappy ones. After that, there were a lot of years when everything was just 'okay.' Not unhappy but also not anything worth remembering. Looking back, I guess you could say I was on auto-pilot. Then I met this girl who likes to have picnics in the park in October and packs way too much food in the basket, and she changed everything. With her in my life, I finally feel like there's a purpose."  
_

_"Oh," she said with a big grin. "Now _that's_ the nicest thing anyone has ever said to me." She dropped a kiss on his lips and said, _"_I love you, too."_

_He observed her carefully, lightly toying with a strand of her hair before slipping it behind her ear. "But I didn't actually say it," he reminded her with a low laugh.  
_

_"Yeah, you did," she sighed in contentment.  
_

_"I do, of course. I love you, Andy."  
_

_She searched his eyes for signs of apprehension or fear and finally asked, "So . . . are you scared?"_

"_Nope. You?"_

"_No way," she responded confidently, snuggling against him as she soaked up his warmth in the crisp October air. _

"No way," Andy murmured inaudibly, startling herself awake, only to realize with disappointment that she was lying on her side on the hard linoleum floor and not bundled up in Sam's arms. She shivered in the chilly room, noting with no small degree of disappointment that she must have dozed off while she was thinking about him. As she shook her shoulders to relieve some of the stiffness, she wished the guy hadn't tied her arms behind her back the second time around.

Andy blinked when she noticed the light coming from the open door across the room. She lay still on the floor, listening for signs that her captor was somewhere nearby. When she heard nothing, her eyes darted to the empty office. The guy wasn't around. Andy's thoughts tumbled over each other at a rapid pace. She assumed he'd left the door open temporarily because she was asleep and he didn't consider her to be a flight risk. The only real question was how long she had until he came back.

Before she had time to second-guess herself, Andy drew her feet up behind her and clawed at the knot in the rope around her ankles. It wasn't as tight as it had been after he'd retied it because she'd been working on it throughout the afternoon. When the rope came loose, she sat up quickly and managed to get herself to a standing position even though her hands were still loosely tied behind her back. She walked to the open door and looked out into the office, secretly rejoicing in the fact that her abductor wasn't very good at what he did. As she manipulated the rope around her wrists, she moved cautiously through the office, all the while listening for any sounds to indicate that he might be returning. When the rope fell to the ground, Andy smiled in relief and brought her hands around in front of her. She massaged the raw patches where the rope had worn away her skin with the disinterested detachment of a person with more pressing matters to consider. The sound of a throat clearing drew her attention upward, and she was immediately treated to the menacing glare of her red-faced kidnapper.

Andy made a futile attempt to duck around him and escape through the open door, but he grabbed her around the waist and muscled her back toward the storage room. She let out a piercing scream and struggled against him, kicking wildly as she gripped the door frame with the tenacity of someone who wasn't going down easily. When the guy finally pried her loose and tossed her onto the floor of the storage room, he held her down with one hand and reached into his back pocket with the other. Andy's eyes grew wide as he pulled out a syringe, bit off the cap with his teeth and aimed it toward her neck.

"Didn't want to have to use this," he grunted as she struggled and bucked against his weight. Andy swung her legs and arms around at a maddening pace, landing one good kick to the guy's groin that elicited a satisfying string of curses from him. In retaliation, he locked his grip around her neck and forced her down against the ground as the syringe made its slow, jerky descent toward her. Still, Andy refused to give up, knowing that her resistance was making it difficult for the guy to restrain her. When her right fist made contact with his left eye, he let out an angry shriek and plunged the syringe into her neck with a ferocity that had Andy crying out in pain. The sudden, sharp sting of the needle ignited a burning sensation in her neck that only grew worse as the icy cool venom surged into her body. She continued fighting him in a vain attempt to break free, knowing that it was only a matter of time before the drugs pulled her under. As her movements slowed and her vision blurred, the guy relaxed and she knew she was slipping away. Within seconds, her head dropped limply to the ground and her eyes closed.


	18. Chapter 18

**If you're here and you haven't read Chapter 17 yet, you may want to go back and read it first. Chapters 17 and 18 are going up at the same time.  
**

* * *

Sam polished off yet another cup of coffee, carelessly tossing the empty cup into the floorboard with its predecessors. He glanced at the clock in the cruiser, noting that it was just after six a.m. With the exception of a brief power nap in a random parking lot at one o'clock, he'd been out all night attempting to uncover anything that might lead them to Andy. In the end, his efforts turned over nothing new and Sam was left feeling more frustrated than when he'd started out.

When his phone rang, he sighed deeply, assuming it was another concerned call from Jerry.

"Swarek," he answered in a voice thick with resignation and hopelessness.

"Sammy, it's Arnie."

"Where are you?" Sam asked, looking down at the unfamiliar number that registered on caller i.d.

"At my sister Sheila's place. Listen, I may have something on Lorena Sparks. You said you wanted anything I could dig up on her, right?"

"Yeah," Sam said dubiously, finding it difficult to believe that an inebriated informant could possibly produce anything they didn't already know. "What is it?"

"Well, I was talking to Sheila when I came in a little while ago . . . . You know, I told you how she does Lorena's hair sometimes-"

"I remember," Sam said impatiently. "What did she say?"

"She reminded me about Lorena's sister."

"She has a sister?" Sam asked in disbelief. He let the new information sink in, wondering how significant it might be.

"Yeah. Younger than Lorena, cute, friendly . . . . I met her one time when Marco had me over at the house doing some painting. She worked in antiques . . . used to own a store in town. Sheila said she moved away four or five years ago. Thinks she went to Chicago."

"Why is this the first I'm hearing about her?" Sam questioned Arnie skeptically.

"She kept a low profile. Not too many people know about her. Never really got along with Marco and didn't like that Lorena was mixed up with him."

"Do you have a name?"

"Gemma. Gemma Jackson. Different last names. Seems like I remember them saying they were half-sisters."

"Anything else?" Sam asked, feeling a whisper of optimism at the prospect of a new lead.

"Sorry, man. That's it. Hope it helps," Arnie said on the other end of the line. "Wish I had more."

"No, it's good. Thanks, Arnie," Sam assured him, reminding himself not to underestimate the guy in the future. Before Arnie could even ask, Sam said, "And don't worry. I'll take care of you."

He hung up and dialed Jerry's number. As soon as Jerry answered, Sam started talking. "I need you to see what you can find out about a Gemma Jackson. Owned an antique store in the area. Moved away four, maybe five years ago."

"Gemma Jackson," Jerry repeated slowly, and Sam could tell he was writing it down. "With a 'G' or a 'J?'"

"Don't know," Sam admitted. "Try both."

"Sure. Who is she?"

"Sparks' sister."

"There's a sister?" Jerry asked, sounding surprised. "How'd you find out about her?"

"From a guy I know. Can you just see what you can find out about her and call me back with whatever you get?" Sam insisted. "And it needs to be fast."

"Yeah, yeah. I get it. Give me ten minutes," Jerry promised as the line went dead.

Eight minutes later, Sam's phone rang. In the half-second it took for him to see Jerry's name on the screen, he already had it pressed against his ear. "Did you find anything?" he asked urgently.

"Maybe," Jerry responded. "The sister did own an antique store that went out of business several years back. From what we can tell, she still owns the building. If your guy is right and she moved away, Sparks could have access to it."

"Where?" Sam demanded.

"Just hang on, Sammy. We're sending a car over to check it out. I'll even head over there myself."

"Where?!" Sam yelled.

Jerry sighed as he recited an address into the phone.

"Thanks," Sam said distractedly and hung up, pulling over only long enough to scribble the address Jerry had given him on a napkin from the glove box. Thankfully, he wasn't far from the store. As he let his foot fall heavily on the accelerator, he gripped the steering wheel until his knuckles turned white. Feeling fidgety and anxious, Sam willed the car to go faster. He told himself that it might all come to nothing; maybe he wouldn't find Andy when he got to the shop. At least it was a new lead, though, which meant there was still some hope of finding her in time.

When he was a few blocks away from the sister's store, Sam slowed down, preferring to scope it out on the first pass. As he cruised by the building, his view of the inside was obscured by a thin covering of white paper on the windows. If the dusty glass and green gang symbol on the front were any indication, no one had been selling anything legal out of the shop for a while. Sam steered the car into an alley that ran alongside the building and cut the engine, deciding to approach the back of the store on foot.

He shut the door to the cruiser with a muffled thump and slipped around to the back of the shop. The faded grey back door was barely visible beneath a tangled web of dead vines that obscured most of the brick façade. Ignoring the door for the time being, Sam continued around the corner to the far side of the building. As he loped along the brick wall, he came across several boarded-up windows but found no other access points. Making his way back to the door, Sam was mildly surprised to find that it was unlocked. He opened it carefully, letting his eyes adjust to the dim hallway on the other side. From where he stood, Sam could see all the way through to the thinly-covered windows at the front of the store.

He drew his gun as he entered the building, feeling instinctively that it was a wise choice. If the sister was gone and the place was no longer in use as an antique store, the odds of someone being there for a legitimate purpose were slim, especially when one considered that Lorena Sparks was the building owner's nearest relation.

As Sam approached a door on his left, he looked inside cautiously and discovered what appeared to be a makeshift kitchen. The lights were off and there were no signs of activity, so he moved on. The sounds he heard coming from the door on his right led him to believe that it was a bathroom and that someone was definitely inside. He continued along the hallway, wanting to get a feel for the place before the person in the bathroom came out to join him. The final door on the left was open. It led into an empty office with nothing more to offer than an old desk with a haphazard collection of antiques scattered around on it and a sagging shelf that was somehow managing to support the weight of an ancient cash register. His eyes were immediately drawn to a gun that had been left on the corner of the desk. Sam picked it up and slid it into the waistband of his pants as he moved through the office, focusing on a door on the other side that was shut and, as he soon discovered, locked. He jiggled the doorknob lightly, ultimately deciding that brute force was going to be his best course of action. He rammed his shoulder against the door and it swung open easily, illuminating the dark room beyond.

Sam's heart thudded heavily against the walls of his chest when he saw Andy curled up across the room. She had her back to him, but he knew it was her. In less than a second he was kneeling beside her, checking for a pulse. His breath came out in a rush as soon as he felt the steady beat against his index finger. She didn't respond to his gentle attempts to wake her, though, and Sam considered that a bad sign. He reached for his radio and fired off an urgent request for medics. In the background, he heard the sound of the bathroom door swinging open and he stood up, feeling the anger percolating inside of him. Sam schooled his features, barely maintaining his composure in the face of his desire for vengeance. With a calculating hand, he raised his gun and walked steadily back out into the office.

A large, beefy guy rounded the corner and entered the room. If his open mouth and wide eyes were any indication, he was shocked to find a gun pointed at him. As he stood motionless in front of Sam, his eyes locked onto the desk where his own gun had been only moments before. When he saw that it was no longer there, he spun around and darted back out into the hallway, making a messy exit as he stumbled artlessly toward the back door. If Sam weren't so filled with rage, he might've found the image comical. As it was, though, he was barely keeping a lid on the pure hatred he felt for this person who had not only taken Andy from him but also kept her locked up in a dark room all alone.

Sam bolted down the hallway after the guy, almost catching him as he stumbled out the back door. As Sam barreled through the door, he holstered his gun. There was so much rage coursing through his body that he was fairly confident in his ability to take down Andy's kidnapper without it. Plus, Sam knew that beating the guy senseless would give him far more satisfaction than shooting him. Buried somewhere beneath the outrage, there was also a small portion of his brain that was still thinking clearly enough to preserve the trail that led back to Sparks and Davenport. As luck would have it, the loser he was chasing was the only connection between Andy's kidnapping and the people really pulling the strings. So Sam wanted him to stay alive. Painfully alive.

As the door slammed behind him, Sam lunged forward and easily tackled Andy's captor. The guy staggered to his feet before Sam could get a firm hold on him, though, and started swinging his arms as if he wanted a fight. More than happy to oblige, Sam stood up quickly, easily dodging the punches before ramming him into the brick wall and punching him in the stomach so hard that he doubled over.

"If she's not okay, I will kill you," Sam seethed. The guy was still hunched over, and Sam leaned down into his line of sight. "I mean that."

"She's fine," he wheezed. "I had to drug her. She forced my hand. Tried to escape twice. _Bit_ me. How do you think I got this black eye?" he practically whined as he pointed to his face. In a flash, Sam dragged him up to a standing position and punched him squarely across the jaw, hearing a loud crack as his hand made contact with its target. The guy shook his head in angry confusion and lunged forward, managing to set himself up perfectly for a hard jab to the nose. Experiencing no remorse, Sam felt bones splinter beneath his hand. With a dazed expression, the guy staggered to the side, almost immediately dropping to the ground and landing in a heap. Sam nudged him with his foot, confirming that he was, in fact, unconscious. Pulling the handcuffs off of his belt, he rolled the guy over and slapped them onto one of his wrists. Sam dragged him over to a pipe bolted to the side of the building and locked the other cuff onto it, barely registering what he was doing. His mind was already back in the storage room with Andy.

Secure in the knowledge that Andy's abductor wasn't going anywhere, Sam ran back into the building and collapsed onto the ground beside her. He checked her pulse again, relieved when he confirmed that it was still strong and steady. As he leaned over her, the warm rush of her breath against his cheek provided him with an additional assurance that she was very much alive. He slid his arms underneath her gently and scooped her up, resting her body against his as he carried her toward the storefront. Having found her, the combination of adrenaline and caffeine that had been keeping Sam going started to fade and a wall of exhaustion came at him like a freight train. He trudged heavily toward the front door with Andy in his arms, drawing whatever strength he needed from the reassuring presence of her head against his chest.

Sam barely acknowledged the distant sound of sirens as he flipped the lock on the front door and carried Andy out into the early morning sunlight. He made it as far as the curb before his knees buckled and he was forced to sit down, holding her firmly against him. Sam moved some hair away from the side of her face and kissed her temple. Breathing in deeply, he drew comfort from her scent and the knowledge that she was alive in his arms.

He didn't budge as three police cars, including Jerry's, pulled up nearby. An ambulance rolled in right behind them. He'd seen it many times when he was working a fresh crime scene . . . that moment just before the cops and paramedics rushed in and took control. There was an urgent stillness in the air as the victims waited for the inevitable explosion of activity. As Sam sat on the curb with Andy in his lap, the scene unfolding before him was no different. With a detached awareness, he watched as the paramedics rushed around the ambulance, collecting their gear before hurrying toward him with a stretcher in tow. There were two of them—a female and a male—and they seemed intensely focused on the task at hand.

"Officer, she shouldn't be moving around," the female admonished Sam as she hovered over Andy.

"Her pulse is strong, and she's breathing. The guy said he drugged her," Sam explained to no one in particular, not showing any signs of letting go of Andy.

"We'll check around inside to see if we can figure out what he might've used," Jerry offered. Sam stared at his friend blankly, noticing him for the first time. Jerry leaned down and gripped Sam's shoulder. "She's gonna be all right, Sammy. They'll take good care of her. You need to let them take her."

"We've got to get her to the hospital," the male paramedic confirmed abruptly, and Sam blinked to clear the fog that surrounded him. It was a powerful mixture of fatigue, relief and lingering fear, and Sam was finding it difficult to function in the midst of so many conflicting emotions and sensations. Reluctantly, he stood up and put Andy on the stretcher. When she was settled, he let his hand wander down to hers.

As he stood beside her, Sam vaguely registered the fact that Frank had arrived at the scene. He was standing nearby, locked in a discussion with Jerry, and as Sam raised his head in acknowledgement, Frank broke away and came toward him. "We got her," he told Sam needlessly. "She's gonna be okay."

"I'm going with her, Frank," Sam announced weakly.

"Look, I know this isn't what you want to hear," Frank informed him, "but you need to be in court in an hour. I'm driving you." The statement came across as more of a directive than an offer.

"I'm staying with her," Sam insisted, following along with Andy as the paramedics wheeled her toward the ambulance.

"I know you don't want to leave her, but she's going to be okay. Her vitals are good. Let them take her to the hospital and you can go over as soon as you're done in court. She's in good hands," Frank assured Sam as he looked around and spotted Traci nearby. She was standing on the curb talking to another officer. "Nash! Can you go with McNally to the hospital?"

"Absolutely," Traci responded immediately, jogging toward them.

Frank rested a hand on Sam's shoulder. "Nash will keep you updated. You can call her as much as you want to check on McNally."

Sam stepped back as the paramedics moved around Andy, preparing to hoist the stretcher into the ambulance. He looked unconvinced.

"I get it," Frank said. "You don't want to let her go. But you have to testify at that trial. After everything that's happened, you know she would want you there," Frank contended, hitting upon the one argument that could cut through Sam's resolve.

Sam sighed and nodded his head. "Fine. Just give me a minute." He stared down at Andy, memorizing the image of her lying peacefully in front of him. If he had to leave her, he wanted that picture ensconced on his brain until he got to see her again. Sam brushed several strands of hair behind Andy's ear and squeezed her hand gently before backing away.

Frank placed a firm hand on Sam's upper back and guided him toward a black SUV that was parked nearby. "Maybe you can get in a quick nap on the way there," he suggested. "You look like you could use one."

Collapsing into the passenger seat, Sam knew Frank had a point. As the SUV pulled away from the scene, the ambulance's siren pierced the air and faded fast, speeding away in the opposite direction.


	19. Chapter 19

**This is the last chapter. In my opinion, it has a bit of a subdued feeling to it. Not to worry, though, because there is still an Epilogue, and that should tie it all up in a nice, big bow.**

**I know I've said this with almost every chapter, but thank you to everyone for following this story. To all of the people who've taken the time to comment, thank you. Thank you to everyone who has followed or favorited. And if you're just reading along without following or favoriting, thank you, too. You guys are all amazing. :)**

* * *

Sam leaned against the wall, letting his head fall backwards with a light thud as he closed his eyes and took a series of calming breaths. Around him, the hospital corridor was soaked in silence, and that was how he preferred it. He needed some time to pull himself together before walking through the door to his right.

"Is everything okay?" A woman's voice broke into his thoughts, sounding mildly concerned.

Sam slowly opened his eyes and scanned the face of the nurse standing in front of him. With a fluffy head of grey hair and an unmistakable mother-hen vibe, she seemed far too perky and energetic for his liking. He rubbed his forehead wearily and sighed before answering. "Yeah, I'm fine."

"Are you sure?" she asked with unconcealed skepticism.

"Yes." As the strained assurance escaped his lips, Sam heard it and knew he sounded slightly rude and definitely dismissive. So he reluctantly added, "I'm here to see someone."

"Andy McNally?" the nurse offered, eying the nameplate on the door beside him.

When Sam nodded, she smiled and patted his arm. "She's awake. You should go in."

"I will," he mumbled. "I just . . . ." he trailed off hesitantly. He didn't know how to finish the thought because he wasn't entirely sure what was keeping him outside of Andy's room. All he knew was that he wasn't ready to go in yet and it had nothing to do with a lack of information concerning her well-being. Seven calls to Traci during the course of the day had been enough to reassure him that Andy was awake and that the worst of her injuries appeared to be only minor abrasions.

"She's doing great," the nurse informed him needlessly, inching backwards toward the room across the hall. "Go in and see for yourself."

When she was gone, Sam dropped his head against the wall again. He felt raw and spent. He was so tired, only standing upright courtesy of a mixture of caffeine and sheer will power. From somewhere in a distant room, he heard a rhythmic beeping. It punctuated the restrained silence of the hallway with a regularity that was oddly comforting. As Sam counted the beeps, he found that their predictability had a calming effect on him. One, two, three, four, one, two, three, four . . . . The simple cadence gave him something else to focus on besides the jumbled mass of thoughts that occupied his mind.

_What if he walked through the door only to learn that Andy's safe return had been nothing but a dream? Maybe she hadn't actually come back to him._

_It was all his fault._

_Would she hold him responsible for what had happened to her?_

_If they were able to move past all of it, how __would he ever come to terms with his fear of losing her?_

_What did he need to do to ensure that no one would ever hurt her again?  
_

_Maybe he should keep his distance to avoid causing her more pain._

Sam felt overwhelmed, unable to bring order to the thoughts that plagued him. So instead, he sagged against the wall outside of Andy's room and did nothing. After waiting all day to see her, it was a strange irony that now had him loitering outside of her room, incapable of taking those final few steps.

Finally, he convinced himself that whatever his fears might be, skulking around in the hallway wasn't going to alleviate any of them. If nothing else, it was making him even more anxious. So he shoved off of the wall, breathing deeply as he shored himself up for whatever awaited him inside. A gentle rap on Andy's door sent it eagerly swinging open in welcome. The door swept across the floor with a smooth efficiency that made Sam wonder if even it hadn't grown impatient with his long delay in the hallway. Before he could second guess his decision to go in, he was standing in the open doorway hoping he didn't look as awkward as he felt. He had no idea what to do with his hands, so he hastily shoved them into the pockets of his jeans and looked across the room at Andy.

"Hi," she greeted him with a weak smile. She was sitting up in bed looking far more alert than when he'd found her earlier that morning. Alert and fragile. "I was wondering when you'd show up," she said with a lightness that seemed strangely casual given all that had happened to them since they last saw each other in the locker room two nights before.

"I went home to shower and change after court. Oliver's idea. He didn't think you'd want me here until I got cleaned up," he explained with a wry smile. Sam left out the fact that his friend had not only ambushed him outside the courthouse but had refused to drop him off anywhere that didn't have a shower and clean clothes. At the time, Sam's inclination had been to go straight to Andy, but a quick glance at the uniform he'd been wearing for two days left him no choice but to admit that Oliver had a point.

"At least you're visiting while I'm awake this time. No drooling or snoring," Andy teased him.

Sam managed a small smile and took a few halting steps toward the bed. Now that he was in the room with her, some of his reluctance was beginning to fade. Certainly, the realization that she was sitting right in front of him helped to assuage his concerns that it was all just some elaborate dream.

"Seems like you keep ending up in this place because of me," he observed, approaching her slowly.

"Stop it," she told him firmly, as if she'd anticipated exactly what he would say. She moved over in bed and pulled the covers back so that he could join her. "It wasn't your fault then, and it's not your fault now."

As if he were inspecting a porcelain doll, Sam picked up one of her arms and gently turned it over. He grimaced at the sight of the rope burns on her wrists. The marks served as a very real reminder of how close he'd come to losing her. As long as he lived, Sam knew he'd never forget the fear that had gripped him at the prospect of never seeing her alive again.

"They're just rope burns. They don't even hurt," Andy assured him with a sigh. "The doctors are only keeping me here to monitor me, Sam. I'm not fragile, and I won't break." Her tone was firm and unyielding, if not a bit impatient. Hearing the edge to her voice went a long way toward reassuring him that she was still very much with him and that she wasn't nearly as delicate as she seemed.

Sam decided to drop the subject for the time being as he climbed into the bed and slipped his arm around her shoulders. He pulled her against him and kissed the top of her head.

"How was court?" she asked as she settled back against his shoulder.

"Long."

"Do you go back tomorrow?"

"Yeah. The prosecution finished with me today. Defense counsel's up tomorrow. Should be fun," he remarked dryly. "With any luck, though, they'll be done with me by tomorrow afternoon so we can move on and put all of this behind us."

"That'll be nice," Andy responded, rubbing a hand in soothing circles on his chest. "Traci said Dov and Chris picked up Lorena Sparks at her house."

"I heard. Seems like she was packing for a trip. Must've somehow figured out that things went south with her plan," he surmised. He narrowed his eyes as he looked over at her. "So did you really bite that guy?"

"Hmmm . . . not my finest moment. Don't piss off Andy McNally or she'll bite you and plant a knee in your groin."

"Knee to the groin, too?" he confirmed with a small smile. "And apparently a pretty embarrassing black eye to go with it."

"Nice," Andy said, sounding pleased with herself. "I didn't see it myself, so I'll have to trust you on that one."

"I don't think that guy was your biggest fan, McNally. Two escape attempts and a well-deserved beat down by a girl. He didn't seem to be having a very good day."

Andy treated him to a healthy laugh as she pushed the button to recline the bed so that they could lie down. "According to Traci, you weren't exactly gentle with him yourself."

"Not exactly," Sam agreed, laughing under his breath.

"Thanks for finding me," Andy said with a yawn.

"Thanks for trying so hard to get out of there."

"I did promise," she told him. "Come on. You need to rest. Traci said you haven't really slept for two days." She curled up against him with her head on his chest, making it difficult for him to refuse her request. "I don't know how you stayed awake as long as you did."

"Caffeine. Lots of caffeine," he said drowsily. As he started to fade, he mumbled, "I'm sorry I wasn't here when you woke up."

She raised her head suddenly and scowled. "You're kidding, right? I didn't hang around that storage room by myself for a day-and-a-half so that you could flake out on testifying."

He gave her a thin smile as she kissed him on the cheek and returned her head to his chest. In less than a minute, they were both asleep.

* * *

Two car doors slammed in rapid succession, the sounds getting quickly swallowed up by the surrounding forest and nearby lake. Andy walked around the front of the truck and held out her hand to Sam. He stood motionless, surveying the cabin in front of them uncertainly.

"I don't know, McNally. There's a lot of nature out here. It's almost stifling." He swept his gaze across the lake and back to the cabin, hooking two fingers beneath the neck of his sweater and pulling at it uncomfortably.

Andy laughed. "Come on. Dad said the key's underneath one of the rocks beside the house."

"_One _of the rocks. You mean you don't know which one? I thought you'd been here before." Sam finally accepted her outstretched hand and let her tug him up the gradual incline toward her Uncle's cabin.

"I have, but it's been years," she admitted. "We'll make it a game. The person who finds the key wins. It'll be fun."

"Fun, huh? What's in it for the winner?"

"Bragging rights, of course." She rolled her eyes at him, making it clear that the answer should've been obvious.

"Bragging rights? That's all? I'm gonna need something better than that if you want me to crawl around on the ground looking for a key under a rock," he grumbled as he glanced warily at the rocky patch of dirt near the screened-in porch.

"Fine," she sighed dramatically. "I'll make it worth your while, okay? Just get down here and help me look," she ordered him playfully as she moved from rock to rock, overturning each one in a haphazard search for the key.

By the time Sam crouched down and picked up his first rock, she'd found the key. "You knew where it was all along, didn't you?" His voice shot up an octave as he crouched in the dirt, aiming a mildly-accusing look at her.

"I had a general idea," she confirmed. Brushing off her pants, she sprang to her feet and offered him a hand.

"No thanks. I'm good." He waved her away as he got to his feet and followed her into the porch through the screen door.

Andy tripped happily toward the back door of the cabin and slipped the key into the lock. Before opening the door, she turned to Sam excitedly. "Ready?"

"Do I have a choice?"

"Nope." She pushed open the door and took a whiff of the air as she crossed the threshold. "Musty, but otherwise not too bad."

"A little cold," Sam observed. Following her inside, he scanned the large great room with a critical eye. "I don't suppose there's a switch to turn on the fireplace?" he asked hopefully.

"Not this time. I did see a woodpile outside, though, so at least we don't have to chop any wood. Actually, the place is fully-heated, but it's kind of nice to have a real fire going, don't you think?" Andy walked around the bar in the kitchen area and began opening cabinets. "Pretty sparse. A can of beans and a bottle of mustard. Good thing we brought food."

"I can't believe I let you drag me out here, McNally," Sam complained half-heartedly.

Walking over to him, Andy rested her hands on his hips. "Sam," she said patiently, looking at him from underneath her eyelashes, "we both know that's not exactly true." She'd been released from the hospital after one night with instructions to take it easy and try not to overexert herself. She hadn't been cleared to return to work yet and hanging around her apartment while everyone else was working didn't sit well with Andy. So when Sam wrapped up his testimony and her Uncle offered them his cabin for a few days, it took only a small amount of arm-twisting to convince Sam to take off with her for some hard-earned R & R.

"As I recall, you willingly drove us here in your truck, so I think you'd have a hard time convincing anyone that I _dragged_ you anywhere," Andy insisted, looking at him smugly. "And anyway, as much as you pretend otherwise, I know you're secretly happy to be here. Just you, me and nature."

"I like the part about you and me," he conceded as he circled his arms around her upper back and pulled her into him for a kiss. "And we do deserve some time alone together."

"You're not wrong there," she agreed, thinking of what they'd been through during the past week.

"Why don't you bring in our stuff and I'll work on getting a fire started?" she suggested as she nudged him gently toward the door.

"I guess I could do that. Hopefully I won't get attacked by a bear or a moose while I'm out there. If I'm not back in five minutes, you should probably come looking for me," he called over his shoulder, walking back out onto the porch.

* * *

Dinner that night was a joint effort. With Sam manning the spaghetti noodles, Andy took charge of the meatballs and sauce. She grinned to herself as she stirred the sauce around in the pot, barely paying attention to the light splatter that was accumulating around the burner. Finally, she had Sam all to herself with no disturbances. No kidnappers. No work. No one else but them. That thought alone had her smiling from the inside out.

"We might need a cleaning crew to come in and hose this place down after dinner," Sam said lightly as he wrapped his arms around her waist from behind and kissed her neck.

"I was distracted," she claimed, rolling her head to the side to give him better access.

"Distracted? With what? I thought it was just you, me and nature. No distractions."

"You're a pretty good distraction, don't you think?" she responded coyly.

"So you're saying that mess on the stove is _my_ fault?"

"Definitely," she laughed. "But only in the best possible way." She flipped off the burner and lifted up the pot, pouring sauce over two heaping plates of pasta.

Sam grabbed the plates and carried them across the room, leaving Andy's on the coffee table as he settled back against the arm of the couch. With his plate in his lap, he stretched out his legs along the length of the couch and looked over at Andy.

"Ready to eat?" he asked, staring at her expectantly.

"Yep. Just one more thing . . . ." From a nearby cabinet, Andy pulled out a large jar candle and plopped it onto the coffee table.

"Candles. Nice touch," he observed, grinning at her.

"Candle," she corrected him with a smile as she struck a match and held it to the wick. "_Candles_ would be nice. Unfortunately, this is the best we can do."

She relaxed with her back against the other armrest and set her own plate in her lap, mirroring Sam's position. Where their legs criss-crossed in the middle of the couch, she tickled his calf with one of her socked feet. The warm glow from the fire and the generous helping of spaghetti in front of her lulled Andy into a dreamy trance as her eyes roamed lazily between the fireplace and her plate.

When she realized several minutes had passed without a word from Sam, she cast a glance at the other end of the couch and froze with her fork halfway between the plate and her mouth. Her face fell. "Sam."

"What?" he asked nonchalantly, instantly averting his gaze to the fireplace.

"You were doing it again."

"Doing what?"

"You know what," she responded with a heavy sigh. "Staring."

"I was just looking at you," he insisted. "I'm not allowed to look at you?"

"It's the _way_ you were looking at me," she sighed. "Sam, I'm okay. Everything is _fine."_

"I know," he said, far too breezily to sound convincing. He quickly shoveled spaghetti into his mouth and smiled at her as he chewed. Andy closed her eyes and shook her head at him, grinning in spite of her best attempts to remain serious. It was a pattern they'd been slipping in and out of for days. She'd look up to find him watching her with that same intense expression on his face. He'd turn away and try to pretend that it hadn't happened.

Andy sat forward and slid her plate onto the coffee table. When she reached for his plate and put it on the table beside hers, she received a curious look from Sam. Crawling down to the other end of the couch, she turned around and curled into him with her back against his chest. He slid his knees up on either side of her and wrapped her up in his arms, pulling her tightly against him. When he had her comfortably tucked in between his legs, he rested his chin on her shoulder and nuzzled his nose against her ear from behind. Andy laid her arms on top of his in what she hoped was a calming gesture. She knew he was still struggling with what had happened. She wanted to make it right for him, but she wasn't sure how to do that. So she tried to just be there for him and wait it out, hoping he'd eventually accept that everything was going to be okay with them.

Punching a hole in the silence, Sam said, "I guess this place isn't so bad. I could get used to being out here."

"You're just saying that because of the bedroom," Andy challenged him.

"Well it is a pretty nice setup," he admitted. "Not exactly what I expected when you told me you were taking me to your Uncle's cabin in the woods. King-sized bed, hot tub, big bathroom with a shower that can _definitely_ fit two people in it . . . ."

"You do realize we could get all of those things at any hotel in the city."

"Yeah, but the beauty of this is that there's _no one else around_." He whispered the last part as if it were a secret, and Andy laughed.

When she eventually fell asleep in his arms, Sam continued to hold her against him as the fire flickered and snapped in front of them. Finally, when the flames died back to glowing embers, he scooped her up and carried to her bed.

At some point during the course of the night, Andy woke up and realized Sam had moved her to the bedroom. The full moon streaked through the gauzy curtains, bathing everything in a subdued half-light that lent an other-worldly quality to the room. The shadows cast by the trees outside the window created a lacy pattern across the bed that danced and shimmered as the wind blew through the leaves with its usual unpredictability. Andy blinked, staring up at the ceiling, allowing her eyes to adjust to the hazy stillness that surrounded her. Slowly, she turned her head toward Sam's side of the bed and immediately noticed a pair of dark eyes shining back at her.

"Why are you awake?" she asked, rolling onto her side to face Sam.

"Couldn't sleep."

Andy sighed. "Sam, can we talk about this?"

"Talk about what?"

"You know what. I know you're having a hard time with it all. Just talk to me," she prodded.

Sam regarded her steadily before answering. "What's there to talk about? It's just something I need to deal with."

"Okay," she agreed easily, not wanting to push him too hard. "I just hope you know that it's not something you have to deal with alone. I'm here."

Sam picked up her hand and wove his fingers through hers. He brought their joined hands up in front of his face, inspecting them with a small, wistful smile, and Andy assumed that was the only response she was going to be afforded.

So he surprised her when he suddenly started talking. "I could've lost you. And it would've been because of me. I know," he said quickly, cutting her off when she opened her mouth to speak, "you say it's not my fault. But it happened because you're with me."

"I'm a cop, Sam. I work in a job that brings me into harm's way all the time. Even if we weren't together, something could've happened to me."

"But you weren't in danger because you're a cop. You were in danger because we're together."

"You do realize the same thing could happen to you because of some case I worked, right?"

"You're right," he admitted. "I do get that, but it doesn't make it any easier that this time it was because of me. And it's a reminder that we work in dangerous jobs and that anything could happen at any time. I don't know how to handle the possibility of losing you."

"I know," she sighed. "I don't want to think about losing you either. But I need you in my life, and to me, it's worth the risk. Is it worth it to you?"

"Yes," he said immediately. "You know it is."

"I love you," she told him, moving closer and searching his eyes for some notion of what she could say to ease his concerns. "It _will_ be okay," she assured him, knowing that she could never actually guarantee that but hoping he'd believe it just the same.

"I love you, too." The words came out on an exhale. He brought his hands up to either side of her face and swept his lips across hers in a delicately haunting kiss that made Andy feel fragile and weightless. In a painstakingly slow dance that began along her jawline, he traced the length of her with soft, spectral kisses. When clothing became an issue, he peeled back whatever stood in his way and cast it aside, continuing the unhurried progression as if he were trying to memorize every inch of her in precise detail.

Andy closed her eyes and sighed deeply, feeling cherished and adored beyond measure. If she lived to be a hundred, she knew no one would ever come close to stirring her soul the way he did. When she felt his warm breath on her face again, she opened her eyes to find him hovering in front of her and in his gaze, she saw an urgency that hadn't been there before. Linking her arms around his neck, she drew him to her, willingly allowing herself to be pulled deeper and deeper into a turbulent swell of emotion fueled by the recognition that life could be fickle and inconstant. Somewhere in the far recesses of her mind, Andy thought they were probably fortunate to have learned that lesson early in their relationship because as Sam wrapped her up in his tight embrace, she melted against him with an almost reverent respect for the time they had been given together.

* * *

Much later, when the early morning sun swept into the room, Andy woke up feeling tired but satisfied. She stretched lazily and rolled over to Sam's side of the bed, expecting to bump into him. Instead, she found herself alone. Running her hand across the cool sheets, she sat up quickly as an apprehensive feeling stole away the drowsy satisfaction she'd been enjoying only moments before. She slid out of bed, realizing immediately that the T-shirt she was wearing—Sam's T-shirt, as it turned out—was no match for the cold morning air. She shivered as she pulled on a pair of sweatpants, a sweatshirt and wool socks from her suitcase. Going one step further, she grabbed a corner of one of the blankets and pulled it off the bed, pulling it loosely around her body.

Andy walked through each room, discovering no trace of Sam. A glance out one of the windows overlooking the lake told her his truck was still parked outside, though, and that provided some small amount of relief. Sliding her feet into a pair of boots she'd left by the door, Andy slipped out onto the screened-in porch and scanned the rugged expanse of lawn that ran from the house to the lake. From there, she saw Sam standing down by the water with his back to the cabin. With his hands tucked casually into his pockets, he appeared to be watching nothing more than the smooth surface of the water and an occasional blip or splatter created by whatever hardy creature dared to dwell in its murky depths with winter fast approaching. Andy furrowed her brow and the corners of her mouth turned down ever-so-slightly. Without putting any actual thought into the decision, she let her feet carry her toward the lake.

Her approach was relatively silent, but still, she knew Sam would probably sense her presence behind him. So Andy stopped short and waited.

As she'd expected, he turned his head and looked back over his shoulder at her. "I didn't want to wake you up. I couldn't sleep."

"Sam, what's wrong?"

"How do you feel so confident that it'll all be okay?" he asked in a tone weighed down by uncertainty and doubt. "There's so much that can go wrong. One minute things could be going great like they were last week and then suddenly, something just comes along and steals it all away."

"I don't feel confident," Andy responded gently. "And I'm scared, too. Anything could happen at any time, and it could happen to either one of us regardless of whether we're a cop or not. All I know is that you make me happy, and I want that for as long as we have."

"But how do you get past the impulse to worry and hold on too tightly?"

"You do know I don't have all the answers, right?" she teased him. Andy reflected on what he'd said and what might make him feel more at peace, knowing that as time went on, he would think less about everything that had just happened. It was all still fresh for both of them and she was fairly certain that time would soften the sting. "Maybe we start by taking it one day at a time," she suggested. "And then after a while, we won't think about it so much. Maybe some of the anxiety will pass."

Andy walked up behind him and slid her arms around his mid-section, hugging him as she rested her cheek against his upper back. He looked back at her briefly before returning his gaze to the lake.

"Okay. So we play it your way . . . take it one day at a time," he said, and Andy could hear a smile creeping into his voice. "What happens today?"

"Well, we go back inside, whip up some breakfast, relax, maybe try out that shower you were so interested in last night . . . ."

"I like the way that sounds—especially the shower. Then tomorrow, what does that look like?"

"Are you up for a hike?" When he didn't respond, she let out a small laugh. "It's negotiable."

"Good," he said with a relieved sigh. "And next week?"

"We go back to work and do what we love . . . what we're trained to do . . . because we're good at it."

"What about you and me?"

"Well, I think that's just gonna get better and better," she told him. "I've got a really good feeling about us."

"You do?"

"Yep. I see lots of good stuff ahead."

"What kind of stuff?"

"You'll have to wait and see . . ."

"Okay, McNally, but it had better be worth it," he chuckled.

"Oh, it'll be worth it," she assured him.


End file.
